Collisions
by loroot
Summary: In this story, character's from favorite fictional worlds, such as Terminator, Harry Potter, and many more, collide. Will remain true to each respective universe as much as possible.
1. Prologue

**NOTE:** Will contain bad language as the story continues, but if a chapter will contain explicit, descriptive, and bloody details, I'll give fair warning.

**INTRODUCTION:**

This is my first fan-fic, but it's been in my head for a while now, and I just wanted to get it out there. This story will combine elements from many different fictions, the major one's being the **Terminator Franchise**, the **Harry Potter** **Franchise**, while also delving into parts of the TV show **Heroes**, and going into parts from the **Marvel**, and **DC** **Universes, and a lot more, **or at least I'm hoping.

I'll try to explain each part as much as possible for some of the readers who don't know all of these fictions, and for those who do, I'll do my best to stay as close to the originals as possible, but, obviously, quite a few things _will_ have to be changed. The story will center around John Connor from the **Terminator Franchise**, and he'll replace the parts of certain character's from each fiction.

I hope you'll all understand my reasoning behind the replacements. I think it brings the characters closer, rather than just having John being a visitor into each universe, and allows him to bring more to each conflict.

Just to give you all a fair warning, John Connor will replace Ron Weasley in the **Harry Potter Series**. I know that may anger some of you, but the way I pictured this version of John Connor is very similar to Ron's personality, plus it allows him to be part of the famous trio, but not the main hero. Also, **John** sounds like **Ron**, so, that helps.

In **Heroes** _(a popular TV Show on NBC)_ John will replace the character of Peter Petrelli. Again, fans of the show, I know you might be angry, but I really hope you'll like the way I recreate the family dynamic between John and the rest of the Petrelli's.

For the superhero worlds of **Marvel Comics **_(Spider-Man, The Hulk, and Iron Man) and **DC **(Superman, Batman, and the Flash)_ John won't replace any character, so far as I know, but he will have his own interactions with the character's.

**NOTE:** For Superman, I will introduce him as Clark Kent before Superman, inspired by the TV Show **Smallville**.

The idea for this story developed when I started wondering how cool it would be if you could see famous characters interacting with each other in different ways. For Example:

_Wouldn't it be cool if Harry Potter's in his fourth year and is in the graveyard being attacked by Voldemort, when suddenly Wolverine comes crashing through a headstone and freaks all the death eaters out?_

OR

_It would be awesome if Superman from **DC** met Iron Man from **Marvel**, and both had to team up and fight against an alien race who landed on Earth carrying crazy looking lazer swords called "lightsabers" and looking for a man named THE DOCTOR **(reference to Doctor Who, for those who don't know.)**_

Anyways, this isn't the kind of things that would happen. This is pretty random, and I'm hoping to try and make each interaction as unique, but realistic as possible.

I hope it will be at least a little bit interesting for you, and I'm completely open to ideas for adding other fictions _(except for **Twilight**, sorry, i'm just not a guy who's into that series. This probably, immediatley brings me 100 bad reviews, I know, but I'm sorry, I just can't really see how it fits in.)_

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**Prologue**

The boy was barely older than 7, and already he had gone through more than an average person goes through in their entire lifetime. He had lived in the middle of a jungle, learned how to operate 8 different types of firearms, and, now witnessed an explosion that even woke up people, sleeping nearly 30 miles away.

Officer Whitman looked up from the chart he had been reading, which detailed all the information on this kid, and tonight's incident. There were police cars surrounding the entire perimeter, and at least 4 fire trucks had been called out to survey the damage of what was left of the office building. To top it all off, the media had begun to arrive. _Great _he thought, _just what we need right now_.

The kid was sitting on a bench, staring at the road, his expression, unreadable. Whitman noticed that the boy was shivering, _and with good reason_ he thought. These were the days where nights in Los Angeles became colder.

"Who's looking after the boy?" asked a stern voice from his right. Whitman turned to see Sgt. Marks also surveying the scene around him.

"I don't know, Sgt." Whitman responded, feeling sorry for the kid, and just a little bit guilty for neglecting him.

"Get him a blanket or something will ya? He's been through enough, tonight."

Whitman approached the boy, silently agreeing. Hell, if he learned that his mom was a crazy psychopath, he would probably be scarred for life.

As he approached, the boy looked up at him. Whitman took off his jacket and draped it around the boy's shoulders as he sat down beside him. For what seemed like forever, neither of them said anything. Then, Whitman decided to break the silence, saying, "How you holding up?" It was a dumb question, with an obvious answer. Of course he wasn't going to be taking this well. His mom had been taken away from him and sent off to some mental institute, and the kid was all alone.

Instead of pointing all of this out, the boy just shrugged, and went back to staring at the floor. Whitman decided that the best approach was to be honest, "We'll find you a good home, somewhere for you to…get away from all of this…." He looked behind him at the large pile of debris that was once the building for TechCon Industries.

The boy just kept staring at the floor. Whitman tried again, "We'll help you – I'll help you." The boy looked up at him, his expression still unreadable. He smiled encouragingly at the boy and held out his hand. "My name's Charlie Whitman. You?"

The boy smiled weakly, as he started to shake his hand. Whitman's smile broadened. The boy looked up at him and said, "John. I'm John."

As they released each other's hand, Whitman asked, "Well John, you got a last name?"

At this, the boy hesitated, but when Whitman smiled again, he finally said, "Connor -- John Connor."

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This chapter didn't contain any tie-ins with any other fiction. It was just to introduce the character who we'll be following.

If you didn't like it, it's gets better.

If you did, I'm glad you did.

P.S. Sorry for any bad grammar, or bad spelling.

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	2. A New Life

I've gotta warn you again, no Harry Potter in this Chapter. Sorry, but it won't come for another two chapters. This chapter introduces a part from Heroes, while the next will introduce a character from the **Marvel Universe**, maybe two, but I'm not saying which one.

Also, for those people who have never seen the Terminator series, there's an explanation on it's backround for you!!!

...you're welcome....

Allright. I'm not very happy with this chapter, but it's important for the plot, so... yeah.

Chapter One: A New Life

Around 3:00 P.M., John was waiting in the hallway of the St. Morgan's Orphanage for the child services agent. For the past 6 months he had been moved around from foster home to foster home. The parents all told him it was because they felt they couldn't support him, and that he'd probably be happier with some other family.

But John saw through them. He knew it was really because they all thought he was "emotionally scarred, that he carried too much baggage," or something stupid like that. John didn't really care, though. He just wanted to be alone. He found that when he was alone, it was the best time to think.

As he waited, he thought about what he usually thought about when he was alone, his mother and the future.

Sarah Connor, John's mother raised her son to believe that in the future, a computer defense system called SkyNet, built by the American Military, and the corporation, Cyberdine Systems, will become self-aware, and declare war on the human race, launching several nuclear missiles around the worlds, targeted at every major city around the world. She knows this, because the future paid her a visit.

Before John was even conceived, a man named Kyle Reese was sent from the future to protect Sarah from a machine that had also been sent back in time, but its purpose was to kill Sarah. Her unborn son, John would grow up to become the leader of the human resistance, a group of rebels that consisted of the remaining humans left on Earth.

If the machine succeeded, John would have never been born, preventing him from leading mankind to victory in the war against the machines. Kyle Reese saved Sarah at the last minute, and escaped from the machine.

While on the run, Kyle and Sarah fell in love. They conceived John together, a day before Kyle sacrificed himself while protecting Sarah, who ended up finally destroying the machine herself.

This part of her mother's tale was always awkward for John to think about, and not just because of the part about his conception. The time-travel part of this was extremely complicated, and was hard to think about without getting a headache.

Kyle Reese was sent to the past by John, himself, in the future. Which means, that if John, _today_, was killed, he wouldn't just be dead. It would be as if he had never existed in the first place, because then he wouldn't be there in the future to send his father back to the past, which means that they never would've conceived, which means – wait, _what?_

John took a deep breath; he was starting to get a headache. He leaned back in his chair, pressing his head gently against the wall behind him. His mother's tale didn't matter anymore. It was all a lie.

Just a crazy story made up by a crazy woman with a crazy imagination. John sighed, _my whole life is crazy_. He blamed his mother for this. She never let him have a normal childhood. He wasn't born in a hospital; he was born in the middle of the jungle. He spent his life there until he was five, learning "the way of the soldier."

_Did she even know how to raise a child,_ he wondered. _Did she even care if I was unhappy? Did she even love me? Did she even care?_

He wiped these thoughts from his mind as he realized that the child services women was approaching. Mrs. Coop was a short, fairly heavy woman with short brown hair that was beginning to gray. She was very kind, however, and John had known her since his mother had been put into the mental asylum.

As she approached, Mrs. Coop smiled at John. "I have some very good news for you, John," she said sincerely.

John's eyebrows rose. He knew she had found another foster family, and didn't see why this was good news, considering she had told him three days earlier. "What is it?"

"The people interested in taking you in, isn't just another foster family."

"What's different about them?"

Her smile broadened, "Well, believe it or not, but we actually found another relative of yours. The relation is slightly distant, but they she is family, none the less and she, and her family are very anxious to meet you. It was difficult to find your relation to them, due to … some difficulty," she hesitated.

John knew why. His mother had taken extreme precautions to ensure that no one could find them.

Mrs. Coop continued, "— but, we found them, and, like I said, they are anxious to meet you!" she smiled once again.

Mrs. Coop smiled a lot, probably to make the kids feel safer. John was smart enough to know this, mainly because his mother rarely smiled at him, in an effort to toughen him up, most likely. Therefore, John was not used to so many people beaming down at him, and, to be honest, it was something that he could live without. It seemed to fake. Nevertheless, he smiled back and asked, "When do I get see them?"

"Right now, if you're ready. Are you?" John nodded. "Then follow me." She held out her hand for John to take. John, who felt the same way about holding hands, as he did about smiling, looked at it for a second, raising one eyebrow. He finally took it, and walked down the hall with Mrs. Coop.

As John entered the small, room, he recognized it, almost instantly. There were green arm chairs that had been worn down from too much use, and there were pictures and letters posted all around the room, sent from children who had been adopted.

This was where he would come to meet the parents that were interested in taking him in. He remembered how the parents always had the same face. For some strange reason, John had always been good at reading people, based on their expressions.

Almost always, every potential foster parent had a look of worry on their face, obviously nervous at adopting a kid who had been through so much, but when they saw John enter, they would immediately try to cover their true emotions, with a smile, which John could easily tell was a cover.

However, when he entered the room, expecting to see a couple holding each other's hands, looking very nervous and dressed in simple clothing (jeans and a T-shirt), he was surprised to see that both the man and women were on complete opposite sides of the room, the women standing and looking away from the door.

The first thing John's eyes were drawn to was the women, mainly because of her attire. She was wearing a large, brown fur coat, and her ink-black hair was styled in such a fashion, she could've been going to the opera.

As John entered, she turned around to face him, smiling confidently. She was slightly old, but looked as though she kept herself younger through expensive beauty products, and make-up.

Next, John looked at the man, also fairly old, who was sitting down in one of the green chairs, looking down at the tears and coffee stains on it, with disgust.

He stood, when John entered, to reveal that he too, was fashionably dressed, wearing an almost business-like suit, while his dark brown hair (slightly graying, but not balding) was combed to the left.

As John took all this in, one thing was clear to him. These people were rich. At that moment, Mrs. Coop entered behind him, "Ah, hello Mr. and Mrs. Petrelli! It's good to see you again! This, as you've probably guessed, is John!" she said, gesturing at him, as she spoke his name.

The women in the fur coat immediately walked over to John's side, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hello John. My name is Angela, and this is my husband Arthur. We'll be taking you home." The man called Arthur smiled slightly and nodded his head in greeting at John, who smiled back at both of them. However, he was still a little confused. These were not the people he was expecting to be interested in him, let alone be _related_ to him!

"I'll just go to fetch the paper-work! You three stay and have a chat, I won't be too long." Mrs. Coop bustled out of the room, leaving both John and Arthur staring at her, both with a raised eyebrow, while Angela was still looking at John, her eyes shining.

John looked back at the two, his eyes wide in anticipation. For once, he was the anxious one. Angela noticed his discomfort, and tried to calm him down, politely gesturing him to one of the chairs. All three of them sat down in the worn out seats, and looked at each other in a few seconds of awkward silence.

Finally, Angela broke the silence, "So do you have any questions for us?"

John looked at her, and hesitated, "Well… um – how exactly _are_ we related?"

Angela gave a small laugh, saying, "It's a bit complicated, really. I think, my Aunt was your mother's grandmother's niece, or something like that."

John was still surprised. They were still blood-related. "Um… cool." He hesitated again, "Err…so… w-where do you live?"

Before Angela could answer, Arthur interrupted, "New York."

John's eyes widened. Then why were they _here_, to Los Angeles. By the look on Arthur's face, John could tell that he had probably wondered the same thing.

John sighed, "Look, I know you mean well, and all, but you didn't have to come all the way here just to get _me_." John didn't say it, but what he was implying was that he wasn't worth the trouble, or the time and the money.

Arthur raised his eyes, and looked at his wife. He probably agreed, but Angela looked sternly at John and said, "It doesn't matter how far away we live, we're family, and we don't abandon each other, just because of a few miles. Now we're going to take you home with us, to New York, whether you like it or not."

John smiled. "If you say so." As Angela smiled back at him, Mrs. Coop returned with the paperwork.

The next day, John left with the Petrellis, bound for New York.

When I go back and read this chapter, it feels way too rushed for me. I'm sorry about that. Anyway, next chapter involves...SPOILER ALERT:

**_A PARTY!!! _**

...What a dissapointing spoiler!

P.S. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes. I try my best.


	3. The Party

So, here's Chapter 3. Once again -- no **Harry Potter**, but more **Heroes** and like I said in the last chapter, there is one character from the **Marvel Universe**. I think you'll know who I'm talking about when I introduce him. _Hint: He's a ladies man!_

I hate the title I came up with, it's pretty boring, but I'll get better ones later, hopefully. 

This chapter's also the longest so far, so... yeah. 

_**One last thing**:_ From now on, unless it's a character I made up for the story, I'm not going to take a lot of time describing what a character looks like, because chances are you probably already know what they look like, and if you don't, you can use the internet to find a picture. It's a lot more helpful than a description.

**"The King of Soda"- **_Thanks for reviewing. BTW, The Petrelli's are not the Weasleys. The Petrelli's are the Petrelli's and the Weasleys will be the Weasleys. Sorry about the confusion. Since it's a "collision" of so many different stories, there'll probably me a lot of names. But I'll try my best to sort out any complications.__ I'm glad you're interested, though. -loroot._

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The Party

For the next few days, John tried to adjust to life at the Petrelli's home, which, just so happened to be a mansion. Angela and Arthur had a son, already, Nathan, who had already graduated college, and was making his living as a lawyer.

Nathan was on vacation with his wife (who was pregnant, but still able to travel), when John first arrived in New York. Before they got back, Nathan had called his mother to inquire about her recent trip to Los Angeles. John overheard the conversation.

"Nathan, he's family, _your _family! And there's no one else who can take him. We can provide a good home, a good life……….. And what exactly is that supposed to mean? _You pity him._ This boy is special! If you knew what he's been through, you would feel it's your obligation to care for him, as well, and now, if you'll excuse me, Nathan, I think the roast is ready to be put in the oven, goodbye sweetheart!"

Before she could put the phone down, John could hear Nathan's final response, "_SINCE WHEN DO YOU COOK, MA_?! Wh--" he was cut off as Angela put the phone back in the receiver.

After hearing this, John was nervous to meet his… was Nathan his _cousin_? Whatever their blood relation was, John was more worried about how they'll get along.

Ever since he had arrived in New York, he had been constantly introduced to several of Arthur and Angela's friends. John was used to meeting new people, because of his days in foster care, however, this was different.

John usually didn't talk much while in the care of his foster parents, but with the Petrellis, it was different. For some reason, John was actually shy, which, naturally angered him, because this wasn't like him. But John was just not accustomed to the living style of these people.

This did not go unnoticed by Angela, who decided to do the only _natural_ thing for a child who was nervous to meet new people – host a party in his honor!

"A... a party?"

"Yes John, a party! You'll be the guest of honor, and this way, you can meet all of our friends and relatives, all at once! We'll have it this month. Do you have any day that would be good for you?" she smiled at John expectantly.

At first, John didn't know what to say, and then remembered about February 28th. "Well, next Saturday is my birthday."

Angela's eyes widened, "Oh right, the 28th! Well now we must have this party! I'll start calling everyone; I'll need a caterer; a florist…." She walked out of the room and down the hall, her voice fading as she got further away from John's room, which was still filled with boxes. John wasn't sure if he would be staying for long (a habit he picked up during his days of switching between foster homes), so he kept his things packed.

John walked out of his room, down the grand staircase and into the kitchen to get a snack out of the fridge. There, he found Arthur Petrelli staring at his wife, who was in the next room calling everyone she needed to. When he saw John, he said, "I hear there's going to be a party for you."

"Um… yeah." Arthur never really talked much to John, probably trying to pretend he wasn't there. He still wasn't happy at his wife's decision of bringing another child into the home, despite their family relation. He probably had enough trouble with Nathan.

So John decided to stay out of Arthur's way, for the time while he was there, however short it may be. He quickened his pace to the fridge, so he could leave quickly.

But as he did, his head began to throb again. His headache had started in the morning, left for a while, and just now, started back up.

Arthur noticed and asked, "Are you okay?"

John nodded, surprised that Arthur even bothered asking. "Yeah just a headache. I didn't sleep well."

Arthur smirked, "Having trouble adjusting to the new bed?"

"Well, that – yeah, but, having weird dreams doesn't help either."

Arthur's smirk left his face, and was immediately replaced by a look of surprise. "You… had a _weird_ _dream_?"

John nodded, "Yeah it had something to do with … a cup falling and breaking, but it felt pretty real. It was just really random… that's why it was weird." John was pretty enthusiastic; this is the longest conversation ever he'd had with Arthur.

Arthur's expression changed from surprise, to shock, and his eyes darted to his wife in the next room, still on the phone, back to John. He thought for a moment then said, "Have you had any other of these _dreams_?"

John nodded, again. "I think, but I don't remember them."

Arthur looked down, his face bundled in concentration, and then he spoke slowly, "Well, if you have any more of these… dreams, you can talk to me about them, allright?" He smiled, reassuringly.

It was John's turn to be shocked, "Uh… um, okay. Thanks." John grabbed an apple, and went back to his room, pondering the sudden change in Arthur Petrelli's mood towards him. He wondered if it would stay like this for a long time.

It did.

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For the next few days, leading up to the party, Arthur had become increasingly interested in John's life, and not just his dreams. He would ask him about his day (which would always be uneventful, because he spent them, mainly, in the mansion), and was relatively kinder towards John, which was all fine with him, but still a little strange.

Two days before the party, John forgot all about Arthur's change, as today was the day Nathan was returning. John was waiting in his room, nervous, as expected. When he heard the doorbell ring, he took a deep breath, got up off his bed, and made his way over to the grand staircase.

Nathan and his wife Heidi (her belly slightly showing signs of a baby) were hugging Angela. Immediately after, Heidi asked, "So, where's John?"

Nathan saw John at the top of the steps first, and Heidi and Angela followed his gaze. Angela said, "John! Come down, Come down."

John obeyed, but only looked at Nathan, trying to read his face. His eyes were squinting at him, slightly, and his mouth was slightly curled at the ends. John had no idea what he was thinking, which made him even more nervous.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, Heidi came over and hugged John, who hesitated, but hugged her back. When they broke away, she said, "It's good to finally meet you John." She smiled widely, which John returned, while saying, "Nice to meet you too."

"Heidi, follow me to the kitchen, I want to show you some samples of the cake I got for the party."

Both Nathan and John stayed behind, looking after the gossiping women. In the short time that he had known Angela, she had never been this active about anything. He shrugged off the thought, and looked back at Nathan who had looked back at him, too. "She likes parties," he said, in a matter-a-fact way. "Listen… John, I need to talk to you. He started to walk towards the stairs, and motioned for John to follow. "My mother is not the kind of person…." He stopped as they got to the stairs. He started climbing the stairs, with John at his side. "Hmm…. John, she… she can't be depended on. Same with my dad. They won't be there if you need them."

As they reached the top of the steps, they stopped at the landing. "I know this is probably really inconsiderate – you know what that means, inconsiderate?"

John nodded (he may be seven, but he was pretty smart for his age).

Nathan continued, "Right, well, I know this is probably really inconsiderate of me to come here and immediately start saying bad things about the people who just gave you a home, but I just…. I know what you went through, and… I just… don't want you to expect too much from my parents. They mean well… I think, but they aren't…." He stopped again and sighed. "I guess, what I'm trying to say is… my parents aren't very good parents."

John had listened intently, and he wasn't mad, or shocked, or even sad. He had expected this. What he hadn't expected was Nathan to be the complete opposite. He was nice, and didn't want John to get hurt.

He said what had first come to mind, when Nathan had finished. "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

Nathan looked taken a back, but smiled as he remembered the story about John's mother. John smiled back, and said "It's okay. I'm used to that kind of thing happening. A lot of the foster parents I stayed with were like that."

Nathan's smile faded, "Well I'm sorry about that."

John shrugged, "Not your fault."

There was silence for a few seconds, and finally Nathan said, "C'mon, let's go back down." The rest of the day was actually fairly nice. Angela and Heidi were busy talking about the party and the baby, while Nathan and Arthur were talking about politics. John just sat at the table listening to parts of each conversation.

He was glad to have the spotlight off him for a while. Especially since at the party, according to Angela, there _will_ be a spotlight on him, literally.

She had just ordered one.

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Over the next two days, John grew closer to Nathan, as they talked more and more. John was beginning to feel more at home.

Two days later, John's birthday and the day of the party, John was woken up early by the sound of lots of voices and bustling downstairs. He got out of bed, forcing his eyes to stay open to see what the commotion was.

Downstairs he could see crowds of people in different colored uniforms being ordered around by Angela.

"Take the flowers to the terrace, and – NO! Those don't go there move them next to the front entrance. YOU! Take this and move it into the bathroom….No, the one by the kitchen….Yes that's the one. Hurry up – OH! THE CATERERS HAVE ARRIVED!"

Needless to say, John was surprised. The party wasn't until 6:30 P.M., but the decorations were already being arranged. Did it really take this long to prepare for a party?

John didn't want to think about it right now, so he went back to bed. But was awoken again, when, downstairs, Angela realized that one of the ice sculptures was a _Crane_, not a _Swan_.

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At 6: 35, exactly, guests started arriving, fashionably late, as Nathan put it. Upstairs, Nathan was helping John with his suit. He had never worn one before.

"Is the tie _supposed_ to choke you?" he asked, trying to loosen the one he had borrowed from Nathan.

"A little," Nathan laughed. "C'mon, let's go down to meet your first guests."

"Yes! Let's go down to meet my first guests, the ones who I've never met before in my life!" he said sarcastically. John walked down the stairs, as Nathan went to go check on Heidi.

Mr. and Mrs. Rogers were the first to arrive. When Mrs. Rogers saw John, she immediately exclaimed, "Oh look at him all tall and handsome. He looks _adorable_ in the little suit."

John raised one eyebrow. _Adorable?!_ That was a word for three year olds. John was eight, now. _Tall and Handsome._ Now, those were pretty good.

John spent the next half hour greeting other guests, but eventually, the amount of people rushing towards the front door scared him, so he retreated to the kitchen. There was Arthur.

"Ah John we were just talking about you. This is my good friend, and lawyer, Daniel," he gestured to a graying man next to him.

"Daniel Linderman," the man said, taking his hand and shaking it quickly. "I've heard much about you." He eyed John strangely with a smile that almost made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. John nodded in greeting, and walked away.

On the terrace Angela was talking with a tall, African American man. When he saw John, he smiled and said, "You must be John. I'm Charles Deveaux."

John didn't feel as nervous about this man, and smiled back, but unfortunately, some of the other guests who had not met John yet, either, started coming to greet him.

John was bombarded with questions and comments, mainly on how tall he was for his age, and how great he looked in his suit.

John was finally able to get away and half walked, half ran back inside. He went down a hallway that appeared to be empty, turned a corner, and "Whoa!" He almost bumped into a man who was walking in the opposite direction. "I'm sorry. I should've looked where I was go—," but he was interrupted.

"You're John aren't you?" John looked up, waiting for the shower of questions, but it never came. In fact, the man John almost knocked over was very different from the rest of the guests. Mainly because of the fact that he was very young, mid-late 20's, at most. He had a small, black goatee, and was smiling slightly. He also had a very pretty woman holding onto his left arm, also very young.

"Yeah, I'm John."

The man held out his hand, "Tony Stark. It's good to meet you." John shook his hand.

The women let go of Stark's arm, "I'll meet you later." Mr. Stark nodded at her, watched her walk off (taking in the view), then looked back at John.

"So, John, have you adjusted to this new lifestyle well?" asked Mr. Stark.

"Um… Well, it's… different."

Mr. Stark smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Although, the house is nice, and Arthur and Angela have been very good to me, and my room's nice and…" John couldn't think of anything more to say about his new life.

Mr. Stark noticed, and said "It's boring for you isn't it."

John sighed, "A little, yeah."

Stark looked at John, thinking. "Hmm. You know, I don't live too far away. Maybe you could swing by, do some odd jobs around the house for me. I'll pay you $10 an hour. What do ya say?" John was so surprised, he forgot to say anything. "Well?"

"Oh, um – yeah! Sure!" he finally said.

"Great, here's the address." Mr. Stark wrote down his address, and gave it to John.

"Thanks Mr. Stark."

"Call me Tony." Tony walked away to find the girl who had left, leaving John staring at the address wondering what kind of _jobs_ he needed to do.

"There you are!" said a voice from behind him. He turned to see Nathan walking towards him. "What're you doing?"

"Tony Stark gave me his address so that I could go and do odd jobs around the house."

"Good for you, but right now, we're about to bring out the cake, and you really should be there for your own cake."

John followed Nathan out to the main hall, where everyone had gathered. When he walked in, they all started cheering, which gradually changed into everyone singing "Happy Birthday." Arthur had persuaded Angela to cancel the order for the spotlight, which John was grateful for, but nevertheless, he was still turning red, and couldn't help but smile, as two chefs brought out a huge cake with blue and red icing on it.

As everyone broke into song for "He's A Jolly Good Fellow," John looked around the room. He saw Daniel Linderman and Arthur both smiling at him, as well as Charles Deveaux and Angela who were, also, beaming.

Lastly, he saw Tony Stark, who now had _two_ beautiful women, one on each arm. Tony smiled at John, his eyes twinkling. John smiled back, at everyone in general.

The party hadn't been as bad as he'd expected.

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Well, that was Chapter 3. Hope you liked it. I didn't like my ending too much, but I'm pretty happy with the rest.

It was pretty obvious, but just in case: **TONY STARK** was the **Marvel **Guy.

HE BECOMES IRON MAN but at this point in the story, that hasn't happened yet.

P.S. Sorry About Any Spelling or Grammar mistakes. 


	4. Time Passes

My shortest chapter, yet. It's Basically about time passing from John's 8th birthday (Last Chapter), last chapter, to his 11th (Next Chapter). It's a little fast, and it jumps around from place to place, but it takes place over three years, so... yeah.

Next Chapter will also bring in **Harry Potter**, which, I'm guessing, will be my most interesting chapter, but I guess that's for the reader to decide.

Lot more character's are coming, so try not to get overwhelmed. 

So far, I have only one person reading this thing, but, nevertheless, **King of Soda**, thanks for the support so far.

(As long as one person likes it, I'll keep going, for now).

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Time Passes

For the next four years, life went on without much change.

John lived at the mansion, becoming comfortable with his new life, as each day passed. Working for Tony Stark kept him busy, and entertained. Despite their age difference, Tony and John ended up becoming good friends.

Tony's compnay, Stark Industries, was one of the leading manufacturers of weaponry for the , John even went, with Tony, to visit a factory, his company owned.

However, once inside, surrounded by machines designed for the specific purpose of killing, John immediately rushed back outside, saying he wasn't feeling to well, while the real reason was because it was too much of a grim reminder of his recent history with those kind of machines, or at least what his mother had said about them.

It would be a long time before he'd be able to face his past without being reminded of his mother's lies.

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John found a second home, away from the mansion, at Tony's residence, where he met Tony's butler, Jarvis, and secretary, Pepper Potts, both of whom, were loyal to Tony, who treated them, in return, as part of his family.

If John finished his work early, he, Tony, Jarvis, and Pepper, would occasionally sit down to watch a movie in Tony's Home Theatre, even though Jarvis wasn't used to this kind of activity.

"Sir, perhaps I would be more useful cleaning the dishes," said Jarvis, one saturday evening.

"Nonsense! Jarvis, enjoy yourself, for once! You've already worked too much today," replied Tony. "Here, let's put the movie in."

Jarvis wasn't able to just sit down for long, and was relieved when the doorbell rang. "Don't bother, sir, I'll get the door," he said to Tony, who had been about to get up, and he rushed off to answer the door.

It was just the pizza, the Pepper had ordered. After paying the delivery man, Jarvis went upstairs, saying that he wasn't hungry and that he was very tired.

This happened almost every time.

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At the Petrelli's Mansion, John noticed his presence their becoming less interesting, than what it was.

It wasn't that he was ignored, but more, he wasn't the center of attention, anymore, like he had been for a few weeks following his arrival.

However, this was welcome for John; he was just happy that he was still staying there, and that he didn't have to go back to the orphanage to await another interested family.

He had settled in at home, and at his new school, plus, he had found a friend in Tony. For once, his life was simple and unchanging, which was the way John liked it.

But all this was about to change, when he got the most unlikely visitor, on his 11th birthday.

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CLIFFHANGER!!! Sort of, not really.

Well, that was it. Three years are gone. I know it was short, so, to make up for it, I'm going to work on the next chapter tonight, which is called ...

THE VISITOR

P.S. Sorry about spelling or grammar errors. MY BAD! 


	5. The Visitor

This chapter, was pretty interesting to write, because I finally introduced **Harry Potter**. The reason I think it might be more interesting with **Harry Potter **more than **Heroes**, is because a lot more people are familiar with the story, plus I can introduce a lot more characters, all at once, so that's pretty cool.

Not a lot of people reviewing, but that's okay, 'cause it's still better than bad reviews, right? Anyway, I think it may have something to do with the fact that these aren't categories (**Terminator/Harry Potter)** that you would normally connect. So maybe the reason nobody's really reviewing it is because it's not in categories people are looking through... or maybe my story's boring. Oh well. It's still fun to write, which is wierd, because it's not usually fun to write stuff. But I guess with fan-fiction -- it's different. Hmm.

Anyway, enjoy.

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The Visitor

Two days before his 11th birthday, John, along with Nathan and Tony (who had begun to get along, as well) took Tony's private jet to various places across the United States, for two days, visiting various locations and tourist attractions.

John, who was still not used to the luxury of wealth, was slightly uncomfortable in a Jet owned by one person, but visiting many different places around the country, made up for it.

When they returned, on the day of John's actual birthday, they were exhausted from their trip, but all in all, John had a great time. By the time they arrived close to the Petrelli's home, it was almost ten o'clock at night.

Tony dropped Nathan and John off back at the mansion, and left for his own home, after being thanked by the two, and saying goodnight.

When Nathan and John entered the house, they found Angela and Arthur sitting in the living room by the lit fire with … someone John had never seen before.

Angela and Arthur were staring at the man with expressions on their faces that resembled a mixture of fear, confusion, and a hint of irritation.

The man sitting across from them was very old, but had a sense of energy about him. He was smiling kindly at John at Nathan as they entered the room, his eyes shining behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. His hair and beard, which were pure silver, reached down to his waist.

Stranger than his appearance, was what he was wearing: Long robes, a cloak draped across his shoulders, and small, buckled boots.

John's was staring at the man, his mouth slightly open, shocked to see such a strange man sitting in the living room.

After a moment of awkward silence, Angela stood up, saying, "John, Nathan… this is…" she looked back at the man, almost as if she was embarrassed to introduce him.

Immediately, he stood up to introduce himself, "Good evening Mr. Connor. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore."

John was shocked even more when the man spoke in a British accent.

The professor just smiled wider, and continued, "I am the headmaster at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I must apologize for the late hour of my arrival, but it is very hard to find someone when they are constantly traveling cross-country."

John just kept staring at the man, now incredibly confused, himself. The only thing he was finally able to say was, "… huh?"

Dumbledore chuckled slightly, and said, "Hogwarts is a boarding school in England for young men and women, such as yourself, and express their talents as gifted students of the art of magic, and to learn how to use these talents accurately, all under the supervision and aid of a highly respectable staff."

Again, the only thing to come out of John's mouth was, "…_huh_!?"

Nathan, whose expression mirrored his cousin's, looked from his parents to the old man, who was still smiling, and said, "You've got to be kidding me. What is this!?"

Dumbledore replied, "I assure you, Nathan, that this is no joke." He dipped his hand into his cloak, and pulled out a long, straight stick of wood. "This is my wand, which I use to perform magic, as do all wizards and witches." He pointed to the fire, which was dying down, and flicked his wand.

Almost instantly, the flames grew immensely, but this time, the flare was dark blue, causing John, and the three Petrelli's to back away, defending themselves with their arms.

Dumbledore, who didn't seem to notice the others' fright, flicked his wand again, to which the flames turned a bright green, in response.

Arthur Petrelli yelled, "_Allright STOP_!" Dumbledore calmly looked at Arthur, looked back at the fire, and placed his wand back inside his cloak, as if nothing happened. The fire immediately blew out, by some invisible wind.

"I'm sorry if that frightened you – this is probably a lot to take in, at the moment," he chuckled, again. "That was magic, and the reason I am here," he looked at John, "is because you are able to do this as well. John," he stepped towards John, who did not step back. He was still staring at the fireplace. "…you are a wizard. I have come to invite you to attend Hogwarts, where you can study magic, and learn how to use it."

This time, John couldn't say anything. Nathan went over to the fireplace, and began inspecting it. "That's impossible… probably some kind of… no…. maybe – over here…" he was muttering to himself.

John looked at Dumbledore, then to Angela and Arthur, "Is… Is this—," he was interrupted by Angela.

"Yes, yes… it's true. He explained everything before you arrived."

Nathan, who had finished inspecting the fireplace, looked furious, and said, "Okay, yeah, even if this _is_ true – even if this whole magic thing _is _true…. England!? A boarding school for magicians… in England!?"

John nodded in agreement, "Yeah, why would I go to England. If I really am a… _wizard_, and there _are_ others like me… aren't there schools like – what was it; 'Hogborts'?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him, still smiling, "It's _Hogwarts_, and there _are_ people like you."

"Okay, well, aren't there other schools like _Hogwarts_ in America!? Why haven't I been contacted by someone from one of those schools?!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes shining brighter than ever. For several seconds, he said nothing, and then he said, "Well… it would seem that I arrived first. _The early bird get's the worm_, as they say. Besides, you're not going to school, right away. I was going to recommend that you wait a year, perhaps staying with a foster family in England, a wizarding family."

John's face fell. Another foster family?! Not again, he had finally settled in with the Petrelli's, who just so happened to be his family.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore said, "You won't be leaving your family. They will always be with you. It's just that it would benefit you, greatly, if you could live in a wizarding home for a year. It's not an opportunity available often."

"… I… don't know," John said. Nathan looked at him like he was mad for not immediately declining the offer. John, however, could not make up his mind. Despite the suddenness of all this, he was still intrigued by the wizarding world. And perhaps living with a wizarding foster family might prove to be more interesting than a normal one.

Dumbledore smiled, warmly. "That's completely understandable, given the circumstances. However, I feel I should let you know, that a wonderful family has already volunteered to welcome you into their home. They already have six children, and they say that they are willing to welcome you into their family, with their arms open."

"Who are they?" asked Arthur, staring at Dumbledore viciously.

"The Weasleys. Now, if you'll excuse me, I won't take any more of your time, as I must be on my way." Dumbledore turned to Angela and Arthur, "Once again, I'm terribly sorry for troubling you this late. Good bye." He turned towards John and Nathan and said, "Goodbye, Nathan. And John, I hope I hear from you soon."

And with that, he briskly walked passed them, and to the front door, followed by the others, who were all staring after him.

As he opened the door, he stopped and looked back at them, "You have quite a lovely house," and he walked down the steps towards the road, John holding the door to see where he was going to go.

Nathan, who was behind him asked the question on everyone's mind, "How's he getting back?"

To answer the question, there was a loud CRACK, and the old man disappeared. But while everyone else jumped back, John couldn't help but smile slightly.

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There you go. How'd I do with Dumbledore's dialougue? For the most part, I thought it sounded like him, but, what do I know?!

Next Chapter, John has to make some goodbyes (Yes, I know that let's you know that he decides to go! But it was pretty obvious, right? I mean, if he didn't, this story would be kind of a rip-off, especially since **Harry Potter's **one of the main categories).

P.S. Sorry about spelling or grammar mistakes. I know nothing!!! Feel bad for me.


	6. Confusion in the Kitchen

_Before anything, here's a note on plot holes:_

_**"As you can imagine, a story that includes so many different plots (such as Collisions), will, most likely have a ton of plot holes. It's, unfortunately, unavoidable, but I'll try my best to come up with ways to explain why such thing is, to remove any confusion.**_

_**Some plot holes found in "The Visitor," include a lot of things to do with Dumbledore's reasoning. Let me explain, the way I see it, which I should have done in the chapter, itself, but I was just lazy – my bad.**_

_**The reason for why he'd invite John to Hogwarts in England is because he can tell that there's something special about him, he just doesn't know exactly what it is. Plus, Dumbledore never struck me as someone who would discriminate students based on their nationality, even though other people might.**_

_**(This could prove to be a conflict John has to face, when he goes.)**_

_**Also, the reason an American Wizarding school hasn't contacted John about enrollment is because, if you remember the date of John's birthday, late-February, which would place the current date, somewhere around early-March, much too early for a school to normally enroll students for the next year, but Dumbledore, being clever, decided to contact John early, on his birthday.**_

_**Also, about the fact that Dumbledore wants John to stay with a Wizarding family in England (not forcing), is because, the way I see it, each nation has its own Floo Network. The only way for people to use Floo powder to travel to another country is to go through a crazy process with the Ministry (similar to International Airports).**_

_**For a student, this would seem like too much to do, every holiday. Not to mention, the British Ministry would probably not want to waste resources on just one foreign student (from America), so, it would be much simpler if he could live somewhere in England, but he's too young to live by himself, thus – you get the Weasleys.**_

_**I know that the whole thing with the Weasleys being a foster family is a little weird I know, but bear with it, please. I'll try to show that most of the Weasley family doesn't like this whole adoption thing, either (at first).**_

_**That's it for those plot holes, but if you have any more questions/comments let me know. Thanks."**_

_Allright, now that we've got that taken care of, on to chapter 5! This chapter continues the introduction of **Harry Potter** into the story. Originally, this chapter was going to be really long, but I decided to cut it in half, and so, yeah._

_Enjoy._

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Confusion in the Kitchen

For several days, John spent his time wandering around his room, his mind constantly pondering the strange visitor he had met on his birthday, and everything he had discussed… and what he had shown them.

He wasn't the only one, wondering about the subject.

Every time John would see or hear any of the Petrelli's, they were always talking about Professor Dumbledore, and whether or not he was an actual "professor" of anything, or not.

There would always be questions heard around the house, relating to him, and this "so called school of his."

_"What kind of a name is Dum-bull-door, anyway?"_

_"Should we tell someone about this, like the Police?" "Don't tell anyone! Who'd believe us!?"_

_"How long has this 'mysterious other world' even been in existence?! I haven't heard anything about it!"_

_"What do you even learn at this school, anyways!? Could he have been a little bit more specific as to what exactly the concept of magic actually IS?!?!?"_

These, and many other questions, were constantly asked to John, as if, before Dumbledore had left, he had some how downloaded all the information, about the magical world, into John's brain.

In fact, he was asking _himself_, the very same questions. He was afraid, anxious, excited, confused, and mystified, all at the same time.

He wanted to stay with the Petrelli's, because they were the only family he had. But at the same time, the wizarding world sounded so incredible. From the moment Dumbledore changed the color of the fire, John couldn't help but wonder if maybe someday, he'd be able to do that.

However, the school was in England, which was an entire ocean away!

If John went to Hogwarts (if it even was a real school), it would be much harder to keep his past a secret from the other children.

On the other hand, if John decided to go to this school, it could be an opportunity for him to start a new, away from his past, to a place where no one would know about his mother or his life before New York.

John became more and more confused, as he weighed the pros and cons of each scenario, wondering about what he should do.

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About a week after John's birthday, and the mysterious visit from Professor Dumbledore, John was lying on his bed, after a relatively silent dinner, consisting of Angela and Arthur staring at their food, throughout most of the meal (Nathan had gone back to his apartment).

John was contemplating over Dumbledore's visit, when he heard a loud, high-pitched scream from downstairs, accompanied by a loud _CRASH!_

Immediately, John jumped off the bed, ran downstairs and into the kitchen, to find Angela, surrounded by broken pieces of the plate she had been holding. She had a look of panic on her face.

Arthur, who had been in the bedroom, came running, as he heard her scream, too. "What's wrong, Angela?" he almost screamed at her.

Still terrified, she pointed a shaking finger at the open kitchen window. John and Arthur followed her gaze, to the window, and both gasped at what they saw there.

Perched on the bottom of the window… was an owl. It was brownish, with black spots, thin beady eyes, and a sharp pointed beak. Tied around its neck was a small satchel. It was staring right at John.

After a minute of silence, Arthur cautiously moved towards it, waving his arm menacingly at the bird, "GO! GET AWAY! GO – SHOO!"

"WAIT, WAIT!" said John, although it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because the owl didn't budge.

Arthur looked, incredulously, at John, who began to move towards the owl. When he reached the owl, he carefully took the satchel from around the owl's neck. The owl hooted, and flew away.

"… What on Earth… was that?" asked Angela, between deep breaths.

"An owl," said John, simply. He was more interested in the package the owl had brought him. He opened the satchel and poured the contents onto the kitchen counter.

Meanwhile, Angela was fussing over the owl. "I can't believe there was a bird in the kitchen! I mean, honestly! If Marcel had been here, that bird would be in hell right now." (Marcel was their chef).

Arthur was just staring coldly at the items John had just dumped onto the counter. "What did it bring you?" he asked.

John sifted through the things, finding a newspaper and several letters, all addressed directly to him. "Letters…. I think they're from the," dare he say it? "—the _magic_ world."

Arthur flinched when John said _magic_, as if it was a tabooed word. He sighed, "So… they use… _owls_, for communication?"

"I guess so," was all John could say.

Angela was investigating the area that the owl had landed at. "I bet it left droppings everywhere, oh, we're going to have to call the housekeeper. What are we going to say?"

Arthur went over to her, "Angela, it was only here for a minute. I doubt it did any damage, besides, we have _other_ things to talk about." His eyes darted to John.

Angela and Arthur began to argue, Angela complaining about the owl, while Arthur complained about her complaining. They had been arguing a lot, recently. Even before Dumbledore's visit.

Suddenly John spoke, "These pictures are moving."

Arthur and Angela immediately stopped talking and looked at him. "What?" asked Arthur.

John was holding the newspaper that the owl had brought them. "The pictures in this newspaper are moving."

Arthur quickly walked over to him and snatched the paper from John's hands. Sure enough, the pictures were moving. People inside the pictures were moving, waving to him, some where staring angrily, while others were completely nonchalant, staring off into the distance at something unseen. Arthur's eyebrows raised, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened.

He took his attention from the pictures to look at the rest of the news paper. At the very top it read:

**DAILY PROPHET**

**Demetrius Wood-Worm Arrest Developments**

Arthur skimmed through the article, becoming more and more shocked by what he read.

_**Two weeks ago, Ministry Officials informed the press of an attempted theft of valuables belonging to the Minister, himself. Three days after, the **__**thief was apprehended in Hogsmede Village. It was revealed that the culprit was none other than Demetrius Wood-Worm, the Minister's former assistant. Wood-Worm confessed to the crime, admitting that his acts against the Minister were in response to his recent dismissal.**_

_**As of right now, he is being moved to Azkaban Prison, his sentence to last at least ten years. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge had this to say, "This is an unfortunate occurrence, but I must admit, I was not surprised. Demetrius was a good lad, but there was always something off about him. I see, now, that it would've been just a matter of time before he pulled off something like this. I'm just thankful no one was hurt…"**_

_**During his trial, it was learned that the Wood-Worm family has had a history a mental illness, dating all the way back to Artemis Wood-Worm, in the 15th Century. Ministry Officials are still investigating into how this information did not appear on their records.**_

"What is this!?" he exclaimed.

"The wizarding newspaper," said John.

Arthur scoffed. "Unbelievable, they actually have their own newspaper," he murmured.

Angela asked, "Well… what else did you get?"

John looked back at the letters on the counter. "Um… err — letters I guess." John looked back at his aunt, awkwardly. For them, this was a weird situation.

She looked at them for several seconds, and then said, "Open one."

John obeyed, grabbing one of the envelopes. On the back was a crest, sealing the opening. It was a lion, a snake, a badger, and a raven, with the letter H in the center. He tore it open.

He read the letter, enclosed, aloud:

**_Dear Mr. Connor._**

**_I await your decision and look forward to hearing from you. The following package I have sent you contains several items to be used for improving your knowledge about the magical world. Hopefully, this shall help answer any questions you may have._**

**_Also, I feel that I must explain that if you decide to attend Hogwarts, you will, unfortunately, be forced to wait a year, before you may actually begin your term. I apologize for this inconvenience, and please, respond quickly._**

**_The owl that brought you your package will return in a few weeks, giving you enough time to think of my offer. Thank You._**

**_-Albus Dumbledore_**

When John finished reading, there was silence in the room. Both Arthur and Angela were staring intently at him, waiting for him to say something. However, he didn't know what to say.

He was distracted by thoughts of what else he would find in the other letters.

Angela broke the silence, "So, the owl's coming BACK!?"

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So that was Chapter 5. This one was kinda tough to write, but I liked writing it, especially the newspaper article. That was, for some reason, a lot more interesting to write than I thought it would be.

What d'yu think? Questions, Comments, Concerns, Praise?

P.S. Sorry about Spelling or Grammar mistakes


	7. Breaking the News

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. I say a lot more at the bottom, after you read it.

Breaking the News

"WHAT?!?!" screamed Arthur and Nathan at the same time.

"Settle down, both of you….If this is what he really wants to do..." Angela sighed, "— we should let him."

"_Let him _— Ma, are you serious?!" Nathan shouted.

Angela stared at him, sternly. "Of course I'm serious. Do I look like I'm joking?" She didn't.

Nathan stopped talking, and settled back into the chair he had leaped from, frowning.

John was standing in front of the three of them, staring at the floor. He had been silent since he had revealed his decision to go to Hogwarts.

Arthur took a deep breath, tried to speak, but couldn't. He stormed out of the room, even though Angela called harshly after him.

The next second, they all heard the front door slam. Angela frowned, and then turned to John, "Give him some time."

John nodded in response, looking at Nathan, who was staring at the carpet, ignoring both of them.

Angela spoke again, "I'll go check with Marcel to see when dinner will be ready." And with that, she left the room, leaving John and Nathan alone.

It was an awkward moment. John had no idea what to say, or do next.

There was some more awkward silence. Finally, John spoke, "I should probably send a letter to Dumbledore."

Nathan turned his head slightly but didn't face John, "Are you gonna use an owl like those freaks do?"

John didn't know whether to be offended or just angry. He marched out of the room, mumbling, "They're not freaks."

He was feeling confused, again especially as he realized that he didn't even know how to contact the headmaster. It wasn't as if he had an owl to use, and he wasn't sure if they used any other method of communication.

He took a deep breath, and looked out the window, by his bed. He jumped when he saw a pair of thin, beady eyes looking right back at him.

They belonged to an owl. In fact, with closer inspection, John realized that it was the same owl that had brought him the package from Dumbledore. He opened the window, staring directly at the bird, which immediately flew into his room, and perched itself onto John's desk.

Hesitating at first, John picked up a piece of paper, and began writing a letter to Dumbledore, saying that he decided to attend Hogwarts and would need instructions on what to do next.

He sealed it into an envelope, and stared at the owl. The owl looked at him, then at the envelope in his hand, and then back to him, and stuck its leg out.

Realizing that this was an invitation to tie the letter to its leg, he quickly found a yo-yo in his bedside drawer, cut off the string, and tied the letter to the owl's leg.

Immediately, the owl flew off out of the window. John stared after it, grinning. Leaning on his desk, he continued to stare at the owl, until it was just a tiny dot in the sky, still in awe at the wizarding world's system of contact.

He quickly grimaced, however, as he looked down at his hand on the desk and realized that the owl had left him a "little present" before taking off.

This system would take some getting used to.

The next day, John decided to tell Tony his new school, but he made a mental note to leave out the information about the whole magic aspect of the story.

When he got to the Stark's residence, he rang the doorbell. Jarvis answered, calling Tony in to greet his friend.

Tony walked in, smiling, "John! I'm glad you're here. I was going to wait to do this tomorrow, but if you're up to it, I have a job for you."

"Hey Tony, before you hire me, again, I have something to tell you."

Tony's smile faded. "You do? What is it?"

"I'm going to a new school."

Tony didn't say anything at first, then, "Okay… where is it?"

"Um… in England. It's a boarding school."

Tony was silent, again. "… Is it a good school?"

John replied, "Yeah, I'll probably learn… lots of _interesting_ stuff that you can't learn in most places," which was true, in a way.

"When do you leave?"

"Well, I don't know, but… probably soon."

Tony nodded his head slowly. Then he smiled, "Well congratulations. I'm sure your Aunt and Uncle are sending you to a great school."

"Err… well, they're actually not sending me there, I was invited, and I accepted. I don't think they're too happy about, to tell you the truth."

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Oh. Well… if you decided to go, then I'm sure this school is great. What's it called?"

John hesitated. He didn't want to lie, but telling him the school is called Hogwarts might not be the best idea. "Um… it's called…," John thought desperately for ideas. His eyes jumped across his surroundings, but he didn't find anything to help him, so he said the first thing that came to his head, "err… Marr…Bloom. Yeah, Marbloom Academy."

He mentally kicked himself in the head. _Marbloom?!_ What kind of school is called _Marbloom_?! **(NOTE: I have no idea what Marbloom is. It's just something really random I thought of.)**

Tony felt the same way, "_Marbloom?_ I've… never heard of it."

"Yeah, well… It's a very private school. It's nice though, _I think_," John answered, muttering the last two words under his breath.

"…Allright." Tony still didn't look convinced, but thankfully, he didn't question the subject anymore. "Well, since you're off to live in a new country, I think that you could use some extra money. How about that job offer?"

John laughed, "What do you want me to do this time?"

"This is a different kind of job than the one's you're used to."

"What is it?"

"There's a painter in lower Manhattan. I recently bought one of his paintings; I just need someone to pick it up for me."

John raised his eyebrows. "Me?! You want me to go to lower Manhattan?"

"Yeah."

"_Alone?_"

"I know that this might be kind of weird, asking you to go pick up a painter from someone you don't know."

"Well, yeah. I'm only 11 years old."

"I know, and if you're not comfortable doing this, that's fine. I can get someone else, maybe. But you're going off to boarding school in another continent! You'll be alone there, too. Think of it as practice or something like that. Plus, I'd give you money as a parting gift, but you know how cheap I can be," both he and John laughed. "I'd like to have an excuse to why I'm giving you money. Plus you've always been fairly mature for you're age. I should now. I knew someone else who was mature for his age, also."

"Who?"

Tony made a face of mock surprise, "Why me, of course!"

John grinned. This wouldn't be so bad. He remembered that he had once traveled on his own to visit Nathan and Heidi at their house in Hyde Park. It was actually pretty simple. And Tony was right: he would be on his own at Hogwarts.

He made a decision, "Allright, I'll do it. What's the guy's name?"

Tony beamed, "Isaac Mendez. He'll show you which painting it is."

Allright, so that's it for this chapter. Thanks for reading. Short, I know, and next chapter will be short, too, but all of these are important for the story. 

I also wanted to say one thing about this job John's going on: I know it may seem kind of strange that an adult is sending a child, on his own, to go and retrieve a painting from a stranger. I usually pictured Tony, at this point in his life, as being someone who has just turned into an adult, so like he's 18. This way, it's not like he's some creepy pedophile, or anything, it's more like he's a guy who missed out on his childhood, because he was very smart, and was busy working on things normal kids don't usually work on (like building technical stuff), and now he's sort of getting a piece of that back with John, who acts older than he is, but is still a kid. Sorry if that's hard to understand, but… yeah.

I should have probably explained that, so sorry. 

Also, in case you've never seen **Heroes**, Isaac Mendez is a character from that show. Nothing big will really happen, next chapter, when John goes to see him, but these chapters are just for setting up the story, and this meeting is actually going to be very important in more ways than one.

This leads me to my next thing, chapter numbers! Just to let you know, there'll probably be a _**TON**_ of chapters. I'll probably have to cut this off, and start it on a new thread called **Collisions Part Two**, or something. 

And with everything in my head, that probably won't even be the end, if I can keep writing. 

I'll try and get the next chapter out as soon as possible, but pretty soon, I'm going to be getting really busy, so it may take a little longer. I'll try and get out as many chapters as I can, before that, though. 

For you information, here's a list of things I've figured out of who to fit into the plot, so far: 

**Heroes**

**Harry Potter**

**Terminator (more)**

**Marvel**

**DC (Including Smallville)**

**Halo **

**Assassin's Creed**

**Merlin (Only Tiny Bit about Dragon)**

**Doctor Who **

**POSSIBILITIES**

**Mass Effect**

**Matrix (Not characters, just back story/ would be related to Terminator)**

**Firefly/ Serenity**

**Transformers**

**GI Joe (Don't really know too much about it, though)**

**Hellboy**

**Lord of the Rings (Don't know too well how to add)**

**Star Wars (If added, would be far in the future and would connect to Halo)**

**Pirates of the Caribbean (Would deal with time travel) **

**MORE ARE PENDING…**

Keep in mind that this isn't in exact order, plus some of these things won't be for kind of a while. I'd like some more suggestions, though. Especially, since for the first few years at Hogwarts, I haven't though of too many major _**collisions**___that could happen.

It's weird, I'm a little confused about that area, but I do know where I'm going after that. Especially after the fourth year (foreshadowing, sort of).

Also, I see that most of the things I'm adding are generally pointed towards the same kind of audience (Action/ Sci-Fi).

Let me know what you think, thanks. Review and send me suggestions for what stories you'd want to see added to **Collisions**, and I'll try to find some place to put it if I can. 

P.S. Sorry for Grammar or Spelling mistakes.


	8. Paintings

Next Chapter Here. Just read it, and I'll talk more at the bottom. Thanks.

Paintings

Isaac Mendez lived in Lower Manhattan, in a loft he designed to act as his studio, and his home. Working as a comic book artist, Isaac easily made a living for himself through his art. Along with his comics, he often spends time, painting on canvas, or making illustrations in his sketchbook.

His day began like any other day, and would seem to end without any difference. However he was about to meet a boy, whose life, he was going to change forever.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, Isaac was going to pass along a gift to this boy. In fact, he, himself, did not know he possessed this gift, yet. This talent, however, was beyond imagining, the markings of which, could be found within his art. In truth, his art _was_ his ability.

Today, this gift would be given to the boy he would meet today. And it was going to change everything – from the lives of millions, to the fabrics of time.

While it would not be revealed to him, for another several years, Isaac Mendez had the ability to paint the future.

Stepping out of the taxi cab, and into the cold, crisp air of New York City, John looked at the building in front of him. This was where Isaac Mendez lived. Hopefully, he was home.

He looked back at the cab driver, and said, "Wait here, allright?"

"Whatever you say, kid," he replied.

John looked back at the building, and walked inside. Getting on to the elevator, he traveled up, until he reached the top floor, and then he walked out. He turned the corner, into a hallway, surrounded by glass windows.

He entered a large room, containing shelves filled with art supplies, and paintings in many places; some were propped up against the wall, others were on an easel.

John walked in slowly, calling, "Hello?! Anyone home?!"

A tall, well built man, with dark, curly hair walked in. "Who are you?" He seemed confused, probably because he wasn't used to kids walking into his residence, alone.

"Um… I'm here to pick up a painting for Tony Stark, are you Isaac Mendez?"

"Yeah I'm him. You're the one he sent? How old are you — twelve?"

"Eleven, but, that's not really important. You have the painting?"

Isaac stared at John for a few seconds, and then walked into another room, saying, "Yeah I have it right here. Just give me a minute to find it — you came in a cab?"

"Yeah it's waiting for me, outside." As he waited for Isaac to come back with the painting, he looked around, at all the paintings. There were several that caught his attention.

One of the pictures was a hut on a small island, in the middle of a storm. There was a very large man in front of the hut. His hand was lifted, as if he was about to knock on the door. Around him were turbulent waves, crashing against the rocks.

"These are good," he said to himself.

"What?" called Isaac from the other room. "Did you say something?"

"Uh — I just said that you're a very good painter."

"Thanks. Just give me one more minute."

"Allright." John continued looking at the different paintings. He saw a simple painting of a farmhouse surrounded by fields.

There was another painting of several people sitting outside in grass looking up at the night sky.

A painting behind him almost made him jump, when he turned to see it. It was a clown or something, dressed in a purple and green suit, a pale white face, green hair, and an evil grin that made the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up.

John kept on looking at all the paintings. All of them were painted extremely well, but most of them seemed to be, almost, random. John was no professional artist, so he couldn't exactly see what each painting's significance was.

He found an outline for what appeared to be a comic called 9th Wonders, and a few sketches of a Japanese man who was walking around New York City.

"Here you go." As Isaac came back into the room, holding a large painting, John said, "How do you think of all this stuff?"

"Uh… well, I guess… it sort of just comes to me."

"Cool. Hey, you're making a comic?" he pointed at the drawings.

Isaac smiled. "Uh, yeah — I've been thinking about starting my own comic for a while. Those are just sketches of some ideas I've had. Anyway, here's your painting."

John looked at it. It was a picture of a gold and red mask, with a black background.

John raised his eyebrows, which Isaac noticed. "Yeah, I don't why he liked this painting. To tell you the truth, I don't really remember painting it." He laughed a little. "I just found it, one day, while getting together some things for a gallery showing. I brought it with me, and Mr. Stark saw, and bought it."

"Yeah, well, that's Tony," laughed John.

"You know him?"

"Yeah, we're friends."

"How does a kid become friends with a billionaire?"

"Well, he knew my Aunt and Uncle, and I met him at a party, and… we just became friends after that. Plus, he'd give me jobs, and I could make money, easily."

"Is this one of your jobs?"

John nodded his head.

Isaac was silent for a while, and then walked away saying, "Well, if that's all, you can leave the way you came."

"Um… okay, bye."

"Yeah, see ya."

John left the building and got back in the cab, the painting in hand. As he traveled back to Tony's house, John noticed a strange feeling in his body. He didn't know what it was, so he decided to ignore it for now, and if it continued, he'd figure out what it was.

But as he reached Tony's house, gave him the painting, and went back to the Petrelli's Mansion, the strange feeling went away. He forgot about it, entirely; as he was too busy preparing for his flight to England.

In time, however, the sensation would return, in a way he could never have imagined.

So that's the end of the chapter. I didn't really like the way I ended it, but, oh well. 

One thing I'll clarify, yes Isaac can paint the future, so all the paintings John was looking at were actually depicting the future. FORESHADOWING!I'll let you know what they were, here:

**First Painting: About Harry Potter **

**Second Painting: About Superman/ DC (That one would've been hard to guess.)**

**Third Painting: About Harry Potter (Weasley Family, Specifically)**

**Fourth Painting: About certain DC Character (Take a guess which one.)**

**The Comic: It's from Heroes, and I won't explain it now.**

**Tony's Painting: About Tony Stark's Future/ Marvel (I've said too much.)**

Anyway, I decided to tell you guys this, because I don't think it gives too much information about the plot of the story, but it does foreshadow (A LOT) about what you can expect. 

Just remember, with Isaac's paintings, there's no limit to where in the future he paints, so it's not exactly in order, plus some of these won't be happening soon. 

Allright, please review and I'll start working on the next chapter soon. Thanks.

P.S. Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes.


	9. Interesting Letters and Another Party

This chapter is kind of long, but I'm pretty happy with it. I felt that it would be strange for John to move in with a foster family (The Weasleys) without at least some contact from them. That's what the first part is for. The second part is important, and the third part is just for wrapping up the chapter, and subtly adding in some more references to other stories. 

Hope you enjoy. 

Interesting Letters and Another Party

Within the next few days, John received a letter from Dumbledore, which detailed everything he needed to know, regarding his flight to England. Enclosed was a pre-paid ticket for a non-stop flight to England, where the Headmaster, as well as some of the Weasleys would be waiting for him.

John also found a letter included in with Dumbledore's letter, from the Weasleys, themselves. It basically said 'hello,' and explained how they were all eager to meet John.

Towards the end of the letter, it read:

"_I'm Molly, by the way. The rest of the family has taken the liberty of writing a few short words as well."_

Underneath, were several signatures, with small paragraphs after each one:

**Arthur Weasley** –

_Hello John. I'm Molly's husband. I work at the Ministry of Magic — I was able to get you a ticket for an 'air-o-plane' ride. I'll be there at the Airport with Dumbledore to greet you. Can't Wait for It! _

John looked at the misspelled 'air-o-plane,' and came to the conclusion that airplanes are not things that are common in the Wizarding World. He read the next signature:

**Bill Weasley** –

_Hey John – I'm sorry to say I won't be there to meet you when you arrive. I'll be in France to do some things for the wizarding bank I work for. I'll try to come home, as soon as I can, though._ _Looking forward to it!_

John was intrigued to hear about Bill's job. He wasn't too familiar with the available careers in the Wizarding World, and this gave him a glimpse into what kinds of things were available. The next signature was also interesting:

**Charlie Weasley** –

_Hi John, I'm Charlie. I'll be with my dad_ _at the 'Air-place' to meet you. It'll be fun, except, just a warning: Dad can get a little bit too excited when it comes to muggle things. If you don't know what that is, a 'Muggle' is a non-magic person. Well, you'll find out, anyway. See ya soon!_

John re-read the part about 'Muggles.' He smiled; well it was a lot easier to call someone a 'Muggle' then a 'Non-Magic Person.' John read on:

**Percy Weasley – **

_Hello John, Looking forward to meeting you. If you need help understanding anything, just let me know. It's probably really confusing, for you, to be introduced to the Wizarding World so quickly. Anyways, bye._

John laughed slightly; _confusing_ would be an understatement. But John didn't mind. The next signature was different than the others. It was written under one signature, but for two people:

**Fred and George Weasley **–

_Fred here!_

_And George. _

_For your information: We are twins._

_Just needed to get that out of the way, so when you see us, you're not completely flabbergasted at the sight of two people looking identical. _

_George, he's not stupid. At least I don't think he is. John, Are you stupid? You can answer that later. Anyway, I'm pretty sure they have twins in the muggle world._

_Well, still, you never know._

_No I guess not._

_Anyway, see you when you get here._

_Yeah, we have a bunch of stuff to show you._

_Oh yeah, loads of stuff. Should be good fun._

John couldn't help but laugh. He didn't know whether to be excited or nervous about all of the… _stuff_ they wanted to show him. The next paragraph was shorter and was written in a small print:

**Ginny Weasley **-

_Hi John. I'm Ginny. I'm looking forward to meeting you. I'm the youngest, so it'll be nice to have someone closer to my age here. Can't Wait. Bye._

As he finished reading the letter, John couldn't feel more anxious to get to England. However, there were still several weeks to go, before his flight, which only helped build up the anticipation.

John saw less and less of Arthur Petrelli, during the weeks leading up to John's flight to England. When he did see him, Arthur was almost always accompanied by Daniel Linderman, Arthur's lawyer that John had met at his eighth birthday party, and had seen several time after that.

Almost always, they would be talking about something, and would immediately stop at the sight of anyone near. John grew more suspicious of the two as each day passed. He wasn't the only one.

Five days before John's flight, a party was held at the Petrelli Mansion, in honor of two occasions.

One, it was to be a going away party for John. While the Petrelli's had not told anyone about the new magical world they had been introduced to, it had been hard to keep it a secret that John was not going to be around. So, the official story became that John was being sent to a prestigious, yet completely normal, boarding school in England.

In addition to this, the party was also held to honor Nathan, who had just been appointed the District Attorney for New York.

As the party began, John was bombarded with questions about this new boarding school in England, and Nathan, on the other side of the hall, was constantly being congratulated. Both of them attempted to escape their respective crowds by heading for the terrace.

John walked out into the cold crisp air of night to find Nathan already there staring at the stars. No one else was there, so John came to the conclusion that this was the most ideal place for isolation he'd be able to find.

He walked up to Nathan, and leaned on the wall next to Nathan. "Hey," he said, blandly.

Nathan turned around, "Hi."

Attempting to make conversation, John continued, "Another one of your parent's crazy parties, huh?"

Nathan laughed slightly, "I guess so." Both of them fell silent. Things had been awkward between the two of them, ever since John had revealed his decision to go to England.

When the silence was finally broken, both of them tried to speak at the same time.

"Look, I —,"

"Nathan, I think —,"

They both stopped waiting for the other to speak, after which John said, "Go ahead."

Nathan sighed, "Look, I think that if you wanna go to England, and go to this school of yours, then I think… then I think you should."

John grinned, "You do?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's your choice, who am I to say you shouldn't. Besides… it might not be _that_ bad."

"Thanks, Nathan."

"No problem, but listen, there is something _else_ I want to talk to you about."

John's faced scrunched up in confusion, "What is it?"

"Err… Have you noticed that my Dad has been acting strange lately?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's been talking a lot with Linderman."

"Exactly." Nathan paused and looked to his left and right to make sure no one was listening.

"Nathan, wha— do you know something?"

Lowering his voice to almost a whisper, "We've recently found indication that suggests that my Dad may be part of the mob —,"

"The _mob_?!" John practically shouted.

"SSSHHHH! Keep your voice down. Yeah the mob — Linderman is a reputed mobster. You didn't know?"

"A _mobster_…," John was silent as he tried to process this information. "I — I didn't even know there was a mob here."

Nathan raised one eyebrow, "John, there are mobs everywhere. Wherever there's money, there are mobsters. Everyone knows Linderman is a criminal, only, that part of his life is always covered up, so no official can even touch him, not to mention, with enough money, you can corrupt almost anybody, and we both know Linderman's got that covered."

"And you think Arthur's part of it."

"… He's doing… _something_ with them; I just don't what it's about, or how long it's been going on. Have you noticed anything?"

"…Well, two days ago, I heard a bit of a conversation that Arthur was having with Linderman, but I don't really know what to make of it."

"What did they say?"

"Um… I didn't really pay attention, because I didn't think it was important at the time, but I think they were talking about me. I just thought he was telling Linderman about the whole boarding school thing, but — wait! Do you think that he told Linderman the truth about me going to England?"

Nathan thought for a moment, and then said, "I wouldn't put it past him."

John frowned, "Nathan, you can't go around accusing your father of being a criminal."

"No, I can't. That's way I'm going to support my accusations with good, solid evidence."

"Like what?"

"Well, I can't really tell you, right now, and plus, we don't have enough to take both of them down, yet."

"Well, how long do you think it would take to get enough?"

"I don't know… three — four years, tops."

"Four years?!"

"I know it's a long time, but we need to be sure, and we need to have all of our bases covered. Not to mention, if the mob is involved, I'm going to also have to take some steps for precaution."

For a second, John had no idea what Nathan was talking about. Then, his eyes widened and he said, "Nathan, even if your father is a part of the mob — even if he's the biggest crime boss in the country, he wouldn't put his work before your safety, he's your father!"

Nathan replied, coldly, "I highly doubt that. You've known my Dad for a long time, but not as long as I have. You begin to… notice things. It's the same with my mother. Sure they're nice, but sometimes, you see a different side to them, and you begin to wonder… if that's their true side…," Nathan was staring blankly in to space, as if everything he had just said was directed to no one in particular.

He shook his slightly and faced a shocked John. "Nathan…," he tried to say, but couldn't find the right words.

Nathan spoke, instead, "John we've already had that discussion, when we first met. You'll see, in time."

"Well, I'm going to England, so —,"

"Yeah, but it's not like you won't visit, right?"

John laughed, and they were both silent for a while, staring up at the few stars that were visible among New York City's many lights.

"You said that you heard Linderman and my dad talking about you?" Nathan finally asked.

"Um… yeah, I think so."

"That actually makes a lot of sense. Arthur, well before you decided to go to the school in England; he was being really nice to you."

"And you think that's strange?"

"Actually, yeah. He's not that kind of person, being nice and all. I don't know for sure, but all of this may have something to do with you."

John hesitated, "Well I — I… so what happens now?"

Nathan thought for a minute and said, "Just… be careful."

"_Careful_? What do you think I should be worried a —,"

Nathan interrupted, "Just be careful, allright?"

John slowly nodded his head in response.

"Good," said Nathan.

They were both silent, each thinking about everything they had discussed. They were brought out of their thoughts by a large group of people inside the house laughing at a joke. They both turned to view the house, where many people could be seen, some beginning to line up at the buffet table. In all of the talk about mobsters and Arthur Petrelli, they had forgotten about the party.

"We should probably get back," said Nathan.

"Yeah."

Fortunately, as they walked back inside the house, few people took notice of their entrance. However, Nathan and John noticed Arthur and Linderman staring at them, next to the curtains, so that Nathan and John wouldn't have been able to see them from the terrace, therefore, neither of them knew how long they had been standing there.

John muttered, "Do you think they heard us?"

Nathan did not respond, but instead went to go greet both of them. "Mr. Linderman, it's nice to see you."

"Nathan, congratulations. I'm sure you'll make a fine DA to the city."

"Thank you Mr. Linderman, I appreciate it." Nathan turned to face Arthur, "Dad," he said blandly.

"Son," replied Arthur. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, their eyes staring frigidly at each other, but smiling, blandly.

Both Linderman, and John noticed this, and Linderman spoke, "So John. You're moving to England."

John was silent as he tried to figure out the best way to respond to this obvious statement. Not to mention, he had just learned that Linderman was a mobster, and he couldn't help feel just a tiny bit nervous. "Um… yes," was all he could think of.

Arthur spoke next, "I'll go find Angela," and with that, he left.

Linderman, to answer Nathan and John's confusion about his quick exit, said, "He's going to make a toast to you two."

This just confused John more, but Nathan seemed to understand. As Linderman left, chasing after a plate of appetizers being brought around by waiters, John looked puzzlingly at Nathan, who began to walk away, gesturing to John to follow.

As they both walked towards the grand staircase, Nathan explained, "He needs to make a toast to us, because all of _this_," he gestured around him, "is for us. He needs to acknowledge us in someway or another."

"Why?"

"To keep up the appearance that he cares."

John was about to respond to that, when Angela and Arthur appeared at the top of the steps, Arthur calling out, "Could I have everyone's attention?"

Immediately, as if rehearsed, the lounge music stopped playing, and everyone fell silent.

Arthur continued, "Thank you. I'd like to start by thanking all of our good friends for being here with us to celebrate Nathan's new position, and to say good bye to John, who's leaving for an excellent boarding school in England. Congratulations to the both of you." Everyone in the room gave shouts of agreement which quickly changed into a burst of applause.

John and Nathan, who were at the front of the crowd smiled at everyone, Nathan said to John, under his breath, "See what I mean?"

"All of you, just being here… it means a lot to us, and I'd just like to thank you all. And with that, I'd like to propose a toast," he raised his champagne glass, mimicked by everyone else, "to Nathan and John."

"_To Nathan and John!_" said everyone. After everyone drank, the crowd began to disperse back into the party, the music began to play again, and the chatting resumed.

Various people came up to congratulate both of them, last being Linderman. "Congratulations, again," he said.

"Yeah thanks," said Nathan, who was about to walk away, but Linderman stopped him.

"Actually Nathan, I haven't got a chance to talk to you, all night. Are the rumors true?"

Nathan looked at John, who had stayed with him, and then back at Linderman, "Excuse me?"

"I hear that your office is about to launch a full scale investigation into all things… _Linderman_," he said with a smirk. "Care to comment?"

To John's surprise, rather than deny any knowledge of this, Nathan replied, "I'd suggest you shave your wrists."

Linderman looked taken aback at the strange comment, "I'm sorry?"

Nathan smiled and continued, "Handcuffs can chafe."

Linderman nodded his head in understanding, and laughed, "I see."

Nathan looked at John and said, "We'd better get going."

Linderman sincerely replied, "Oh please, go right ahead. Don't let me stand in your way."

With that, John and Nathan left Linderman, who went towards Arthur to speak. "I still don't see why you treat Nathan the way you do. He has a certain quality that is rare to find."

Arthur responded, "Nathan is a good person, determined when it comes to work. But that's exactly why I can't trust my son with this. John is the one we need."

"I understand that, Arthur, but I still don't see why Nathan can be used —,"

Arthur interrupted, "Daniel, just wait and see. When John's powers manifest, Nathan will be able to play his role, too, in the events that are coming."

They began to walk towards an isolated place next to a window, overlooking the city.

"It will be hard to watch John, when he's in England. Are we going to postpone the plan? Have you even told any of the others about John's school?" asked Linderman.

"Nothing is being postponed, and no, I haven't told any of the others. You need to relax, Daniel. This is just a minor inconvenience. In the end, everything will fall into place…somehow." Arthur turned to look at the city, shining brightly. "And then nothing will interfere with our plans for this city."

Four days after the party, during the night before his flight, John was sitting on the couch in front of the television, which was currently playing the news channel.

John was the only one awake in the house. He was having trouble sleeping, as the anticipation of the following days was getting to him.

"_In other news, a recent study shows that crime rates have increased, nation wide,"_ the news anchor was saying.

John's mind was swimming with thoughts of the magic world, and Arthur's possible criminal record. Ever since he had learned about Linderman and what Arthur might be involved with, he could not wait to get away from it all, and experience a new life.

"_Percentage increase has occurred in many major cities across the country, including Los Angeles, Las Vegas…,"_

John was also worried about Nathan's safety. John was only a kid, but he was smart enough to know that when dealing with powerful mobsters, it's easy for _"accidents"_ to happen. He was sure that Arthur would never let his son get hurt, but the way Nathan described, made John feel hesitant as well.

"…_Houston, Gotham, Metropolis, New York, and even a minor rise in Washington DC."_

John looked back at the TV. After several minutes, he shut it off and went up to bed. Tomorrow was a big day for him.

There you go. There's that chapter. I think I ended it pretty well, and I hope that this chapter was interesting. I think I should mention that the part where Linderman and Nathan talk, after Arthur's speech was taken from the TV show, but then, the party was Arthur and Angela's anniversary. 

Next Chapter: John goes to England, and starts his new life, and **Harry Potter** finally becomes more significant.

Anyway, if you have any comments, let me know. Review, please. I'd like to know exactly how many people are reading, if there are others. 

To the ones I know are reading, you know who you are. Thanks for sticking with it.

So, yeah, that's all for now.

P.S. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.


	10. The Future Takes Shape

Allright, so this is my second try at this chapter, and I have to say, I really like it. 

I wasn't happy with my first try, and neither were some other people. It was too short, and insignificant. This chapter, however, is pretty long and it is VERY, VERY, VERY important to the overall plot.

Hopefully you like it. 

This combines the most stories into one chapter, ever. 

The title "THE FUTURE TAKES SHAPE" isn't the best title for this chapter, but it's basically what this chapter's about.

NOT JUST JOHN'S FUTURE!!! Hopefully that sparks your interest to read more. So… read on, and I'll talk more, after.

The Future Takes Shape

John was sitting comfortably in his seat, on the plane. He wasn't afraid of flying, and the flight had been relatively smooth, so far. Not to mention, the plane was unusually empty. John had the entire row all to himself.

John looked at his watch, which showed that the time was 12:06 A.M.

Suddenly, John remembered that he had to switch it to England time. He turned the dial on the side, so that it was five hours later.

There was still about five hours of the flight left, so when John reached, it would be around the late morning.

John looked up, examining the plane. The seats around him were dotted with people, but mostly empty.

He rested his head on the wall, again, deciding that he should probably get some sleep. He closed his eyes.

Before he drifted off to sleep, he replayed the events that had taken place at the airport, before he boarded his flight….

_Tony Stark walked up, behind Nathan, "Hey, John, you ready?"_

"_Yeah, I already checked that I have everything, and I have all my money."_

_Arthur and Angela walked up behind him, "Good," said Arthur._

_Angela spoke, next, "Now, are you going to write?"_

_John's eyes widened. "You want me to send you an owl?"_

"_If it means that we get to hear from you, then of course."_

"_Well, okay, I'll write every week."_

_Arthur winced, and Angela's face twitched as she tried to stop herself from doing the same. They didn't exactly like the idea of having an owl at their window, every week, but, nevertheless, they nodded. _

_Nathan, suddenly grabbed John's arm, saying, "Can I talk to you for a second."_

_John followed Nathan to a distance out of earshot, "Yeah?"_

_Nathan said simply, "Leonard Moore is dead."_

"… _Who's Leonard Moore?" asked John. _

"_He was the guy who was working with me on the Linderman case. He died, he had an," Nathan brought up his fingers to mimic quotation marks, "'accident'." _

_John's mouth dropped. "You think that… Linderman was behind it?"_

_Nathan nodded. "Yeah, and I think he's going after the rest of my team."_

"_What about you?"_

"_Well, there's no doubt that I'm a target. He's jumping through hoops to keep this from getting out." To John's shock, Nathan began to smile slightly, "That means that he's afraid of something, which means that I'm getting close to something big. I've almost caught him!"_

"_Nathan, someone just died! Not only was he probably murdered, but you might be next!"_

_Nathan's smile disappeared, "I know, I know. After Leonard's death…," he was at a loss for words, and all he could do was shake his head, a look of anger appearing on his face. "…He'll pay for that …" was all he could say._

_Just then, a voice over the airport's loudspeaker announced that the flight John was taking was boarding._

_From behind them, Angela called, "John!"_

_John nodded his head in acknowledgment. He looked back at Nathan and said, "Be careful."_

_Nathan had a look of, almost, sadness on his face, but then he grinned and said, "Don't worry about me. Go, get on your flight."_

_John grinned back, and walked back to Angela, Arthur and Tony, who handed him his bags._

_Arthur was staring at Nathan, grimly, but he looked back at John," I'll see you soon, right."_

_John nervously looked back at Arthur, whom he couldn't look directly in the eye, ever since he found out that Arthur was probably working with the mob. Nevertheless, he joked, "Don't get your hopes up."_

_Arthur held out his hand, to which John hesitantly reached back up and shook it. Then he turned to Angela, who kissed him on both cheeks and said, "Take care of yourself. We'll be here when you decide to visit."_

"_Thanks," John said, quietly._

_Nathan returned to the group and said, "We'll see you soon, John."_

_John nodded, smiling. Last, he turned to Tony._

"_Well, John, I guess this is goodbye, for now. Maybe I'll come visit you at your school, someday."_

"_Um… yeah, maybe."_

"_Have a good trip." Tony clapped him on the back, and continued, "You'd better get going."_

"_Yeah, well… bye, I guess." John began to walk towards the gate, looking over his shoulders at the group of waving people behind him._

_He entered the gate, found his seat, sat down, and waited. _

John woke with a start as the captain came over the loudspeaker, "We'll be making our final descent into London, shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts, place your tray tables in their upright position, and thank you for flying with us."

John straightened himself up, sluggishly. He scratched his head, and look out the window, yawning. The sun was shining, now, and John could see land, now.

Suddenly, he remembered that this was it. The moment where he would be starting his new life. A wave of anticipation and excitement flooded over him.

As the plane began to descend, John mumbled, "Here we go." While he waited for the plane to land, the only thing on his mind was what was going to happen, within the next couple of hours.

He had no idea, that across the world, things were being set in motion that would affect the future, in unforeseen ways….

_2 days ago, Gotham City, USA_

"How long will you be staying this time, sir?"

"Actually, Alfred, I think I'm staying for good. But there are a lot of things I need to do. "

Alfred sighed as he took his master's bags up the grand staircase in the Wayne Mansion. "Do you ever take a day for yourself, Master Bruce?"

Bruce laughed, "Why? Are you missing me already?"

Alfred laughed, as well, "I'm just worrying about your health, Master Bruce."

"Well, thanks Alfred, but my work here is very important."

"May I ask exactly what it is you are planning, that's so important?"

Bruce didn't say anything, and Alfred understood. "Oh, I see…. You're still going through with it, then?"

Bruce nodded. "It'll take some time, but yes, I'm still going through with it."

"I see. Well, what will you do, once you have everything prepared?"

Bruce thought for several seconds and then said, "I'll do what I have to."

Alfred was silent as he pondered all of the things that this statement entailed. Finally he smiled and said, "Very profound, sir."

Bruce smiled, slightly, also.

The two made their way up the stairs to a door that was all too familiar to both of them. "Here's your room, I've kept it just how you left it." He opened the door.

Bruce frowned, noticing that his room _had _changed. "You did?"

"Well, I may have tidied it up a little bit… or a lot."

Bruce laughed, "It's good to be back, Alfred."

"It's good to have you back, sir. I'll go down and prepare dinner."

Bruce nodded and shut the door behind his butler. He sighed and sat down on the old bed. He thought about what it was he had to do.

Bruce Wayne's parents had been murdered right in front his eyes, by a mugger, who shot both of them in cold blood, and left eight year old, Bruce staring at his parent's life-less bodies.

Over the years, Bruce resolved that something had to be done, otherwise more and more criminals would get away with robbery and murder.

Bruce looked out the window at the full moon. Just then, a bat flew past the window.

_3 weeks ago, Chennai, India_

Chandra Suresh was sitting at his desk, in his office. Several flies were buzzing in the room, and sound of their droning, along with the slow hum of the ceiling fan, and the heat of the afternoon was enough to make anyone fall asleep.

However, Chandra was far from asleep. Not even the least bit drowsy. His eyes wide open, as he was flipping through a large packet of papers.

Chandra was a geneticist, and a professor at Chennai University. For a long time, he had been investigating what could possibly one of the biggest scientific discovery of all time, and for several years, he had donated all his time to the writing of a book that was based on his findings and research, which was what the large packet of papers, was.

On the front cover, in large bold letters was the title:

_**ACTIVATING EVOLUTION**_

This book was his life's work and ambition. Everything that he had studied, that he had theorized, everything that he had hoped for was based on this book.

He knew that most people would think it crazy, that most people would just glance at the book, regarding it as simple science fiction. But he believed that everything he predicted had to be true. _It just had to be_. Everything pointed to the same conclusions.

The book detailed Chandra's theory of what the next evolutionary step for humanity was, based on Darwin's beliefs of evolution.

For humans, the next step of evolution was _mutation_. Not mutation in the sense of horrid, physical deformities. No, mutation in a way, not ever thought of.

_Levitation, teleportation, tissue regeneration… _so many possibilities. If anything, these _mutations_ could also be described as super powers.

Chandra laughed, slightly at this thought, as he continued flipping through the papers of his book.

While his hopes for this book were great, he did not believe that people would utilize their abilities to become _superheroes_, or, if they chose to be, villains.

Chandra frowned, as he thought that if the wrong kinds of people were capable of such things, and they read his book, they'd be able to do, almost, whatever they wanted. He had worried about this for a long time, ever since he began writing the book.

He had decided that whether or not his book was published, he was going to have to do something else about this possibility. That's why he decided he was going to look for these people with special abilities, so that he could meet them face to face.

_Present Day, Metropolis, USA_

As he drove through the streets of Metropolis, he adjusted his glasses to get a better look at the towering buildings around him.

Metropolis was like a smaller New York, or at least that's one some said. That's not the way he saw it. He saw Metropolis as its own city, perfect in almost every way. New York was the "Big Apple" of America, and Metropolis was the "Big Apricot."

Lately, however, the city had been changing, and not for the better. It was hard for the increasing crime to go unnoticed, and lately, the people who had the power to stop this, were getting lazier and lazier, completely ignoring this sudden transformation.

Even the media was taking notice. The number one story was always about a recent crime that had taken place around the city, and how it was a sign that things were only going to get worse, if nothing was done to stop it.

Speaking of the media, he finally reached his destination. Parking in front of the large building that was head quarters for the Daily Planet, he got out of the car, and walked into the building.

He walked up to the reception desk to talk to the receptionist. She however did not look up at him. And for a while, he just stood there, awkwardly, until finally, he coughed.

The receptionist eyes slowly moved up to him, and in a nasally voice, she asked, "Can I help you?"

He stated politely, "Um, yes, I'm here to see Perry White. I'm here applying for a job, and I believe that I am —," but she interrupted him.

"Name?"

"Oh… um, — Clark Kent."

She looked down a piece of paper muttering, "_Kent…Kent…Kent…Kent _— here: Clark Kent. You're late,"she said, condescendingly, and looked back at him, with one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, well, you see, I'm really very sorry about that, but I —," she interrupted him again.

"Go in the elevator to the top floor. Perry White's office is at the back of room, you can't miss it." She looked Clark up and down again, from his combed hair, down to his large glasses, his quirky smile, to his cheap suit. She muttered, "Well maybe _you_ will."

Clark ignored her and said, "Thank you." He briskly walked towards the elevator, and got in. He pushed the button for the top floor, and smiled at the other occupants of the elevator, who just stared at him strange, and went back to their phone calls.

Finally, he reached the top floor, and got out. He walked into a large room that seemed to stretch across the entire floor. People were walking as fast as they could all over the place, and some were running, papers were flying between hands, phones were constantly beeping off the hook, and everyone seemed as busy as possible.

Darting out of people's ways as they raced past him, Clark made his way to the back of the room, to a small office, which had a glass door, on the front was painted in bold, black letters:

**PERRY WHITE**

**Managing Editor**

As he walked into the room, he heard the remnants of the heated conversation taking place between two people. One was a tall, middle aged man, with a red face, and a cigar in his hand. The woman, who he was shouting at, was young, short, dark hair, and she was scowling at the man, whom Clark guessed could only be Perry White.

"Yeah, yeah, Perry, but I still don't get how this is news! I mean, so there's a few more robberies than normal — big deal! What's the story?" said the woman.

Perry's eyes widened. "The _story_?! How many times do I have to tell you? There's only one story, Lane." He gestured to the window next to him, at the cityscape. "Metropolis! She's the story."

The woman sighed. "Whatever you say, chief," and with that, she walked out of the door, not even taking notice of Clark.

Perry called after her, "Don't call me chief!" but it was too late. She had already gone. Perry finally saw Clark standing there, "Who the hell are you?"

"Err, Clark, sir. Clark Kent, I'm the —,"

"Kent, right — you're the new guy. Well, maybe you could go help out Lois, the one who just left. Make sure she writes the story I asked her to."

"Sure thing, Mr. White, what exactly is the story?"

Perry looked at Clark as if he was the strangest thing he had ever seen. "What's the matter with you, don't you listen to the news?" Before Clark could respond, Perry continued, "Crime rates have soared, and not just in Metropolis. New York's not doing so well and neither is LA. Gotham's been hit pretty bad, too, but lucky for them, they got that mental place to keep creeps in, — Arkham, or something like that."

"…It's happening all over the country?" Clark didn't know about that. Suddenly, everything seemed ten times worse.

"Oh yeah, scientists say that within the next 20 years, the country might be in a state of anarchy."

"…I — I had no idea things were so bad."

"Cheer up, kid. It's probably just all a hoax, just to make people panic. You know how the media is. Hell, you _are _the media!" he laughed.

Clark didn't share Perry's amusement. He just stood there, until Perry finished laughing, and then left when Perry shouted, "What are you doing still standing here?! Get to work?!"

He walked over to where the woman called Lois was sitting. He was still thinking about the crime rate increase when he reached her desk. He didn't realize that he had been absentmindedly staring at her, until she asked, "Can I help you?"

He broke out of his concentration, "What? Oh! Um, Mr. White asked me to make sure that you write the story, he asked you to."

"Oh, so now he's got his own spy just to make sure he can keep track of me!"

"Actually —," Clark tried to say.

"You know what's so pathetic? He doesn't trust me! I mean, yeah, I _do_ think this is a stupid idea for a story, but I'll write it anyway, and he doesn't think I will!"

"You know, I can leave."

"I just — what? Oh, um, wait… I haven't seen you around, before, have I?"

Clark was slightly thrown off guard by Lois' sudden change of mood, but he still said, "Err, no. I'm new, here." He held out his hand, "Clark Kent."

Lois took his hand and shook it, asking, "Where are you from, Clark?"

"Smallville, it's about two hours away."

"Huh, _Smallville_…. Never heard of it," she said simply.

Suddenly her phone rang, and as she answered, a voice called from Perry's office, "_Lane! Get in here, I need you!_"

Lois looked behind her at Perry's office, then at Clark, "You'd better go, I'm busy."

Again, Perry called, "_LANE!_"

Lois smiled and said, "Hurry up, _Smallville_."

Clark was about to respond to her, when Perry called again, a lot louder this time. Clark hurried over to Perry's office, frowning at his new nickname, leaving a smirking Lois behind at her desk.

The Daily Planet was going to be an interesting place to work.

_5 days ago, Latveria, Europe_

"… And I'd just like to thank all the people of Latveria. They helped make this factory, up and running, and made me feel welcome upon my return to my homeland." The crowd applauded politely. "So, without further ado, Von Doom Industries is proud to declare that its new supporting factory in Latveria is now officially operational!"

The crowd burst into applause, much bigger and louder than the one before, and the band that was next to the stage, began to play an old Latverian song.

Victor Von Doom smiled and waved at the crowd he had just spoken to, and walked off the stage. He walked through the crowd to his colleague, Reed Richards.

"Great speech, Victor," said Reed, as Victor came up to him.

Victor didn't say anything, but he just nodded his head.

"You know, Victor, I heard that the Latverian royalty didn't approve this factory. How'd you get them to change their minds?"

"What can I say, Reed, I'm a very persuasive person." He turned to a man in a tuxedo holding a tray of drinks. "Is this champagne? Excellent," he turned back to Reed and continued, "But the statistics say everything. With production here, and our offices in the United States, the economy will improve for Latveria, immensely, not to mention, they'll find an ally in the US, through trade. Everybody wins."

Reed nodded his head, but he didn't look convinced. Nevertheless, he walked away saying, "See you later, Victor."

Victor turned to look at the Latverian King, who had made a personal appearance, to show his support for the new factory. Victor grimaced in disgust, when he saw him. He hated the Latverian King. He wasn't the ruler this country needed.

Latveria needed someone strong, someone smart, someone who can think of what's best for the country, not what's best for him.

Victor began to smile. That _someone_ was him. His eyes shined, and he smiled wider at the thought of being the ruler of Latveria, like he had imagined, many times before.

But the gleam in his eye was not one of hope. If anything, it was greed.

All the things he would be able to do. He said to himself, "Victor Von Doom: King of Latveria…. Has a nice sound to it."

Victor shook himself out of his thoughts, as a group of reporters, both Latverian and American, ran up to him for an interview.

As he began answering questions, he thought, if he was to be king, he needed to give the people what they want.

_2 weeks in the future, Los Angeles, USA_

Inside Pescadero State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the halls were dark and dirty. Walking through the building, one might wonder how anyone could be cured of insanity.

However, the only thing on Angela Petrelli's mind, as she walked through the halls, was what she expected to happen, when she finally came face to face with her.

"Right this way, Mrs. Petrelli," said a man dressed in a security officer's outfit.

Angela walked through, to a large room with benches all around. This is where they would be able to meet. The room was empty, except for the security present.

Angela sat down and waited, calmly. Finally, a door opened, and in she walked, escorted by two men in white.

She was tall, and had a mixture of blonde and brown hair. Her face was emotionless, and she didn't blink. She just stared straight at Angela.

She was escorted to the seat, where she slowly sat down, facing Angela, who was slightly smiling. They were both silent for a while.

Finally Angela said, "Hello Sarah."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Angela… Angela Petrelli…. I'm here about your son, John."

Immediately, Sarah's eyes widened, "What happened to John? Is he okay? Tell me NOW!"

"Sarah, calm down. John is fine." She gestured at the security guards who had started at Sarah's outbreak to relax. "You don't know who I am, but we are distantly related, and until recently, John was living with me and my family, in New York."

Sarah didn't say anything, instead, she remained silent and still, staring at the desk.

"He was invited to attend a very… _special_ boarding school in England, and he accepted. He's in England, right now."

Sarah still stared at the table, but she spoke quietly, "He's okay?"

Angela reassured her, "He's fine. We've taken very good care of him, and he's alive and well. He's safe."

Sarah shook her head, her eyes closed, "He'll never be safe."

When she opened her eyes, they were looking straight at Angela, and they were glistening with tears. But her voice was strong and determined, "Does he know you're here?"

"…No, I just thought that you had the right to know."

Sarah nodded, blinking away her tears. She took a deep breath, and said, "Thank You, for telling me."

Angela nodded.

Sarah spoke again, "He never visited me…."

Angela hesitated, "I… I think its best that he waits until he's ready."

Sarah nodded her head, this time, and said, "Well, is that it?"

"For now, yes. That's all." Angela gestured towards the guards, who came and took Sarah by the arm, and escorted her back out. Sarah didn't say another word.

Neither did Angela. Not on the way out of the facility, not on the drive back, and not for the rest of the day.

There you go. Hopefully that was a good ending for this chapter. Back to Angela, and finally you got to see Sarah Connor.

I know that this is supposed to be about various things changing across the _world_, but I couldn't fit in too many things, otherwise it would've gotten too long. 

Also, if the last part being 2 weeks in the future was a little confusing, I just did that so that all of the jumping around the world was in one consistent place, plus, I don't have to mention it later in the story.

So just know that that takes place, two weeks _after_ John lands in England. 

On an other note, I hope I wrote the characters well. I need to say that some lines I _did_ get from the respective source. 

For example, when Perry White says that "Metropolis is the story," that's an actual line from, either a comic, or something from television.

ALSO, on ANOTHER note, during the flashback with John and Nathan, "Leonard Moore," was a character I made up. Just so you know….

Anyway, tell me what you think, and I know that I still haven't fully added in Harry Potter to this story, but it'll happen very, VERY soon, if not, next chapter.

The only reason I wanted to add all of this other stuff, is so that when I start talking about Harry Potter, it's not _JUST_ Harry Potter. 

I have to constantly remind myself, when I'm brainstorming, that this story is not _JOHN CONNOR MEETS HARRY POTTER. _No, this story is _COLLISIONS: ITS JOHN CONNOR MEETS HEROES, MEETS HARRY POTTER, MEETS BATMAN, MEETS SUPERMAN, MEETS IRON MAN, MEETS SPIDER MAN, MEETS FANTASTIC FOUR, MEETS THE JOKER, MEETS…etc_

You get the idea, right?

Anyway, that's my rant of the day. Hoped you liked this chapter, please review, and, yeah…. 

P.S. Sorry about any grammar or spelling mistakes.


	11. Rats and Spiders

If there is anyone who is still following this story, after such a long wait, I'm sorry about that. I was just really busy and also, to be honest, I had no idea how to start off this chapter, but I finally arrived at the idea to start here. Hopefully it worked out okay.

Now the actual introduction of **Terminator** and **Harry Potter** happened outside of the actual story, but, be assured, **Harry Potter** is now officially a full part of the story.

So read on:

Rats and Spiders

John woke with a start.

Panting heavily, he looked around the room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his surroundings became clearer, but not familiar.

This was his first night in the Weasley's home that they called "The Burrow," and, John was still getting used to everything.

He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath to calm him down.

He lay his head back down on the pillow, and closed his eyes. A new bed, a new house, a new country, a new world; it was a lot to take in.

Of course, he had expected this, but it still felt so unreal. He wasn't surprised that the change was affecting his sleep. During his first week at the Petrelli's home, John never had a peaceful sleep.

Here, it seemed to be no different, and the jetlag wasn't helping, either.

After 30 minutes of tossing and turning, John got out of bed.

He decided to go downstairs to see if there were any leftovers from the dinner, Mrs. Weasley had prepared in his honor. She had specifically said that if he was hungry in the middle of the night, he shouldn't hesitate to help himself to a snack.

After quietly climbing down the five sets of steps, John arrived in the kitchen on the ground floor. He was greeted by a cool breeze of an open window above the sink. He went to go close it, but he paused right in front of it.

Looking outside, he saw a field, illuminated by the moon light. The old barn creaked in the wind, and the surrounding trees swayed. It was so peaceful, John almost closed his eyes and fell asleep right there.

Not wanting to be found, his first morning in the Burrow, lying on the kitchen floor, he distracted himself by searching for something to eat. His eyes were immediately drawn to a dish of biscuits, leftover.

Grabbing one, John took a bite and ate it, while looking back out the window.

Several hours ago (even though it felt like several weeks), his mind had been swimming with questions about his future. There were still questions to be asked, but, somehow, it seemed less important.

John was interrupted from his thoughts by a rustling sound behind him. Rapidly turning around, John came face to face with Percy, his eyes widened behind his square glasses.

"Oh, hello. Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

John nodded his head, sleepily, then asked, "You?"

"I'm looking for Scabbers. Say — you haven't seen him by chance, have you?"

Scabbers was Percy's pet rat, but he had never been much use, at least according to Percy… and Fred, and George, and Bill.

John looked around the room. "No… I don't think—Wait! Is that him?" He pointed to a small gray ball that seemed to be breathing, behind the plate of biscuits.

"There he is," Percy said. He walked towards the rat and picked him up by his tail. Scabbers squeaked, to which Percy murmured, "I can't keep chasing him around like this. You know," he looked up at John, "I'm planning on getting a job at the ministry after Hogwarts, and I don't think a _rat_," he looked disdainfully at Scabbers, "is an appropriate pet for a ministry official."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"I don't know," Percy sighed. Suddenly, his eyes brightened, and he looked up at John, "Do you want him?"

John's eyes widened, too, "What? Me?"

"Sure, why not? I was going to give him to Ginny, but she said he's ugly and stupid, and that I was a twit for keeping him — undoubtedly the influence of Fred and George."

"Um…" John had no idea what to say.

"Here take him, he's yours now. Feel free to do whatever you want to him now." Percy handed the rat to John, who clumsily took a hold of Scabbers.

Again, John had no idea what to say, "Err…."

Percy smiled. He looked out the window, however, and his face changed to disappointment, "Oh it's raining. That's probably going to continue through to tomorrow."

John looked back outside, too, and sure enough, rain had begun to pour. "I like the rain."

Percy frowned at him, "You do? Well, you should love it here, then."

John grinned, "I already do."

Percy smiled back, "Right, well, I'm glad." He yawned and said, "Well, I should probably get back to bed." He pointed at John's hands, which were awkwardly holding Scabbers. "You know, this is really going to help me with my studies, so thanks for taking him. Good night." With that, he walked away, back to the stairs.

John just stood there, a little confused, "Err — good night." After a few moments of silence, he looked back at the rat in his hand, which looked back at him. "Well he seemed pretty excited to get rid of you." The rat just stared at him. "Anything I should be warned about?" The rat kept staring, and John scoffed. "Yeah, allright."

Wanting to take another biscuit, he put Scabbers back onto the counter, and reached for a biscuit. He was about to pick one up, when Scabbers jumped back onto his arm, and raced up to his shoulder.

John was taken aback by this, and tried to look at his shoulder, "Wha —?" He looked back down at the counter, and jumped back.

There on the counter, was a spider.

It wasn't the biggest spider in the world, but that didn't matter for him. He had been scared of them since he was a child.

When he was still with his mother, he had been sleeping in the middle of the jungle in some sleeping bags. She had told him it was just like a camping trip, but he now knew that it was because they had no "safe" place to stay.

In the middle of the night, he had awoken to find several spiders crawling around in his sleeping bag. He had been afraid of them ever since.

John looked from Scabbers to the spider, and back to Scabbers. "You don't like spiders, either?"

The rat's eyes just stayed, transfixed on the spider.

John looked back at the spider, and grimaced. "Looks like we have _something_ in common."

John carefully watched the spider, as he slowly made his way around the counter. When the spider made a sudden movement towards them, both John and Scabbers jumped, and John raced out of the kitchen, and up the stairs, back to bed.

Okay, now, I know that this chapter is really short, and certainly doesn't make up for all the time I spent not writing anything, but I think that now that I've gotten a start again, it should be easier to start writing more, plus, getting feedback helps also.

You may not have noticed, but I did try to adjust my style a little bit. A tried a little less unnecessary detail, and more direct, might explain the shortness of the chapter, who knows.

Anyway, that's really it. I don't have much to say. Let me know what you think (if there is still anyone reading) and, yeah. 

P.S. Sorry about any grammar or spelling mistakes.


	12. Six Years Gone

How long has it been?

I don't know if there's anybody left reading so I'm just going to go ahead and skip the whole speech of making excuses for why I haven't posted anything in so long and all that unimportant stuff. It's been too long so I'll just get to the part about this chapter.

This chapter is titled _Six Years Gone_, which was inspired by one episode of **Heroes **(titled _Five Years Gone_), which is personally one of my favorites. Now, I decided to jump ahead six years into the future (ergo, the title) and the details of John's experiences at Hogwarts and everything else in-between will be told in flashbacks in the following chapters.

This allows me to tell just the parts I had thought of from each year, and avoid trying to write my own seven books involving these characters.

So, here we go:

Six Years Gone

So it had come to this.

Chained to an uncomfortable chair in the middle of very large chamber was John. His head bent down and his face to the floor, John listened to the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, whose voice bellowed throughout the chamber.

"John Connor, you are hereby charged with serious crimes against the world of magic and you have been deemed a threat to wizards, witches, and every other creature within the wizarding realm. Further more, your secrecy in the matter of your… _abilities_, is to be looked at as a complete act of treason against this world and, in some ways, the world of muggles. You have also been condemned a traitor. How do you plead?"

John looked up, his face emotionless. After what seemed like an eternity of silence he spoke, "Minister.... If those are the charges against me… well, I can't lie.... Guilty."

A mixture of muffled cries, and murmurs erupted above him, where the audience to his trial, composed of what seemed to be every single witch and wizard in all of England, and probably even more from other countries, were seated.

The Minister's eyes widened. "How do you plead?"

John rolled his eyes. They must've been eager to argue, for the Minister, along with the rest of the interrogators of the Wizengamot, had a look of both shock and disappointment on their faces.

"I'm Guilty," he replied coolly.

John looked straight at them, nowhere else. He didn't look up at the audience, not once. Not even when their murmurs rapidly changed into insults and demands, "HE CONFESSED! DO SOMETHING!" and "YOU'RE A TRAITOR, YOU BASTARD!"

He was not ashamed of his confession in front of all these enraged people. Hell, he wouldn't care if they published in every wizarding newspaper across the world (which they probably would).

No, he couldn't care less about their opinion of him, but he knew that somewhere in the crowd, _they_ were there, and it was because of this, that he didn't dare look up. Out of fear and shame that he would meet their gaze... see the shock on their faces... the fear in their eyes.

Fear of him....

Fear of what he had done....

He had seen this look before, plastered on the faces of everyone in the Great Hall. The entire series of events was a complete blur in his head, image after image flowing through his mind, images that collectively made up the memory of the single most life-altering event in his life.

John did a mental double-take. The '_single_' most life-altering event in his life? Could it actually be that significant, even among so many other life-changing (not to mention life-threatening) incidents in his life? He would have laughed at his dramatization, if it wasn't for his current predicament, and how he got there in the first place. It was a long story…and it wasn't over.

John didn't have time to further mediate the tragedy that was his life, for he was brought out of his thoughts by Scrimgeour's voice, bellowing up the chamber, in an attempt to quiet the onlookers.

"QUIET! QUIET! THERE WILL BE SILENCE – NOW!"

The large array of the crowd's voices faded away into, once again, silence. The Minister looked back down at John who met his, and _only_ his gaze. He was angry, John could definitely see that. He came to the conclusion that it was because he had just stolen the minister's opportunity to fully interrogate him in front of what was, practically, the entire Wizarding World. Now that John had confessed, without any struggle or defiance, the minister had lost his shining moment.

However, to John's surprise, the minster suddenly smiled. "Very well. You've confessed – therefore there is no further questioning necessary, _traitor_." He emphasized the last word. "There is, actually, more to your case then previously mentioned. You have also been charged with the murder of a—,"

"WHAT?" yelled John. "You're charging me for _this_? Yeah I killed him, but he was a—,"

"You have also been charged," continued Scrimgeour, "with the murder of a wizard which was witnessed by over 100 wizards,"

"BUT—,"

"Not to mention, it was performed within the walls of Hogwarts School."

John calmed down and spoke in collected tone, "Look. That _man_ was a death-eater. I was trying to save everyone's life. Not to mention," he continued, quoting the minster, "I couldn't control myself. If you give me some time to explain myself, I can tell you why I can't—,"

"Why you can't what, Mr. Connor? Why you can't control your _abilities_?"

There was that word again: _abilities_. Yes that's what they were, but it was the way he said it, as if it were some kind of disease he had that was infecting everyone as they spoke.

John sighed and replied, "Yes… why I can't control my abilities."

Now Scrimgeour was beaming. He looked around at the rest of the Wizengamot on the bleachers above, "You see? He _is _a danger to us all, but we shouldn't punish him— he can't control it." John scowled at his mock sympathetic tone. Scrimgeour turned back to John. "Mr. Connor. The facts heavily weigh in against you. You are a murderer, a traitor, a liar, and a freak— did I miss anything?"

John scowled even more.

"The reason we will progress on with the trial is to obtain all the information we can about you and your past."

So Scrimgeour would get his interrogation after all. There were probably even witnesses.

"Now, let's begin shall we? First question…"

John just thought to himself, _here we go_.

Scrimgeour continued, "You are a mutant, are you not?"

John looked at him with complete loathing, but calmly replied, "Yes… I am a mutant."

The minister smiled with glee, his eyes shining. "Excellent. Next question…"

This was going to take a long time….

And yes it is going to take a long time. The next several chapters are this trial. But don't worry. There's a plan that extends past that. 

Also, if you have any questions, they'll probably be answered soon enough in another chapter. Hope you liked it.

P.S. Sorry about any spelling or grammar mistakes. I know I probably made quite a few.


	13. Six Years Gone Pt 2

Okay. It's been a really long time. But this chapter gave me loads of trouble during writing, not to mention almost three months worth of writers block (or something like that). Anyway, this chapter continues the trial. I'll talk more at the end. Thanks for sticking with this story. I didn't think anyone would still be reading, but I keep getting those bookmark Alert notifications so I guess I'm doing something right. Now, for the most part, I actually like what I have here, but I'll let you all be the judge of that. So... enjoy.

P.S. Like my imaginative title? I don't know, the "Pt. 2" just came to me!

...*cough*...

... Okay, sorry again for the lateness.

* * *

Six Years Gone

Pt 2

John answered the Minister's questions without anymore argument. The disgust in Scrimgeour's voice was… obvious to say the least. His newfound attitude towards John was in large effect due to the events that got him arrested in the first place. He wasn't like this the last time John had spoken with him. Back then, he was just an excited and determined wizard and the newly appointed Minister of Magic. All he wanted was support for the Ministry against Voldemort, but, as John now knew, he would do almost anything to get it. It was kind of sad really.

"And now, Mr. Connor—next question…" began Scrimgeour.

In a way, Scrimgeour was just as flawed and ignorant as the previous Minister. Cornelius Fudge really just wanted the Ministry on top of the Wizarding World and, like his successor, would do anything to reach that goal. He'd even ignore The Boy Who Lived and one of Hogwart's greatest Headmasters of all time. Ignore their warnings of the Dark Lord's return.

"When was—and I believe this will be of great interest to the rest of you," said the minister, turning his head towards the other members of the Wizengamot.

_They're idiots, both of them! This ministry's run by fools who wouldn't know a wand from a twig! _John thought. _They don't know anything!_

"When was the last time you visited your mother?" asked Scrimgeour.

John was immediately yanked from his thoughts. _What?_ "…W—what?" John asked, his voice barely echoing his thoughts.

"Your mother—and I don't mean from the numerous foster families you've been a part of throughout your life. I mean your _real_ mother. Sarah Connor?" Scrimgeour rustled through some papers in front of him. "The one who gave birth to you in…" he found the information he was looking for, "…in the middle of a rainforest, somewhere in Central America— is this information accurate at all?" His tone was that of both nonchalance and condescendence, as if he didn't know the startling information he had just revealed to the rest of the crowd was of major significance. But he was just acting, creating a more dramatic trial, merely for his own benefit. He was just playing the crowd.

John was speechless. He could read Scrimgeour like an open book (a very pretentious one), but he was nevertheless shocked. _How the hell did he know?_

And John wasn't the only one. An elderly looking member of the Wizengamot next to Scrimgeour leaned over. "What are you talking about Minister?" Scrimgeour grinned widely at her as if to say 'Oh I'm glad you asked!'

Her confused look was shared, not just by her fellow associates, but by the entire crowd. The murmuring, which was becoming ever more present, started up again.

"All in good time, all in good time. John, could you please answer the question," asked Scrimgeour in the same goddamn tone.

John stared up at him in a stunned silence, loathing his every breath.

"John? When was the last time you saw her?"

"Uh…" began John, trying to think. But before he could any words out, the Minister reached the point he had been driving towards this entire time.

"Tell me, John. Was it before or after she escaped from the mental institute, one year ago, and murdered another muggle in cold blood?"

The crowd gasped in unison.

John looked up at the huge collective of eyes staring back down at him. He swallowed.

The elderly Wizengamot member from before removed her spectacles and rubbed her tired eyes. "Minister, explain yourself."

But Scrimgeour's eyes were fixed on John. "Is it not true that helped her escape?"

The elderly woman cut in, "Minister, please—,"

"You aided in the escape of a mentally unstable and criminally insane woman—,"

"Minister—,"

"—and then, helped her murder another muggle by the name of Myles Dyson in cold blood—,"

"Minister!" she said, sternly.

"—and for what! Because he would invent something that would, sometime in the future, annihilate the lives of every single living creature in the world!"

"Minister!"

"JOHN CONNOR IS NOT OF A SOUND MIND, A TRAIT INHERITED FROM HIS MOTHER—,"

"—MINISTER, THIS IS NOT—,"

"—AND MUST BE DETAINED, AT ONCE, AND BE IMMEDIATELY MOVED TO AZKABAN PRISON WHERE HE SHOULD SPEND THE REST OF HIS LIFE!" He then turned, angrily to the elder woman and the other 50 Wizengamot members staring at him. "This is the only way—,"

"We do not have all the facts!" exclaimed the elderly woman.

John stood in silence before them. At the beginning of Scrimgeour's rant, the murmuring had immediately increased. Now, it was dead silence.

Another member began, "Perhaps Margaret is right, Rufus. We should—,"

"No, no! If this evidence is accurate, he must be detained at once!" retorted, yet, another.

Scrimgeour stared at the woman who stared straight back at him, as the other members began to argue. After what felt like days, Scrimgeour finally gave in and looked up at the rest of crowd. "One hour! We will continue after one hour!" he called out, grudgingly, silencing the others. At first the crowd was still, but one by one, they began to stand and make their way for the door. Finally, the entire audience was on their feet.

As John waited for the men who were to escort him back to his holding cell, he dared a glance up at the crowd, but was met, only, with glaring eyes. He could make out bits and pieces of various conversations, as they all began to leave.

"…stark raving mad. It makes perfect sense…

"….Just like his mother…"

"…but still, it's surprising! You know who he's friends with, right?"

"…typical behavior from a muggle-born. It's all in the blood. That must be where he gets it from…"

John looked down at the floor. His escorts unlocked him from the chair, grabbed him by the arms and began to push him towards the exit, into the hallway.

The entire crowd, which was funneling out of another entrance, was being directed to the other end of the hall. John could have sworn he caught a glimpse of several people amidst the crowd with flaming red hair, but he couldn't have been sure. He turned away, too quickly.

But the sight that met him was even worse, for, gliding slowly towards him from the opposite end of the hall was a pair of tall, hooded figures. The only bit of them not covered in the darkness of their dark, flowing cloaks was their long, pale fingers that hung outside their sleeves. The Dementors were his primary escorts.

As he was led to a small room in the back, John spoke for the first time since Scrimgeour had asked about his mother.

"…Shit."

His holding cell was just a small, square room with nothing but another chair chained to the ground in the center of the room. The walls were bland, pale, and chipping. The air had the distinctive smell of sulfur, but John had a feeling that there was, and had never been, sulfur close by. This was by far the worst room (it was probably, actually a dungeon) in the entire Ministry of Magic, and as if to add insult to injury, John knew that just a few floors up was one of the most glorious, yet arrogant fountains ever made up.

Despite the fact that the fountain was of a powerful looking wizard and witch with various magical creatures gazing up at them in awe, the brightly colored lobby, as a whole, would have been a welcome sight compared to….

John looked around the room. _Piece of crap_, he thought.

Suddenly, the door to his cell was opened by one of the wizards who had escorted him. Behind him, John could see a Dementor staring (as far as he could tell) right at him. A shiver went down John's spine. He hated those things.

"You've got a visitor," mumbled the wizard.

"…I'm allowed visitors?"

The wizard just shrugged, "I dunno…"

John's visitor walked past the guard and into the room, the door slamming behind him.

John stared. The visitor stared back. There was silence.

"… Er, that went well," said the visitor, finally.

"Hey Harry," nodded John.

Harry Potter leaned against the wall. "So, how's the room."

John perked up. "It's great! I'm thinking of adding some things, you know, to give it, sort of a homier feeling. Like… I don't know—paint …a nice poster here and there." He looked around at the room for umpteenth time. "…or a window. Hey! You think they'll let me take any of it to my cell in Azkaban?"

Harry's face darkened. "John, you—,"

"You're right; you're right, maybe just _one_ poster."

"John…."

The two were silent, but John broke it, swiftly. "Well, hey! There is a bright side to all of this. I don't have to hide-my secret's out! Or at least the fact that I'm crazy," he grinned in mock excitement.

But Harry wasn't amused. "They don't think you're crazy, John." John's grin faded. Suddenly, he realized, they weren't talking about the crowd, anymore. "They" meant someone different.

"You sure about that?"

"They've known you for seven years! I'm pretty they'll waiting to hear your side of the story."

John, despite everything, laughed. "Yeah…yeah, I'm sure."

Harry frowned, "You think I'm lying?"

"No, no…. But tell me this." Harry sighed and looked at him. "When I told you the truth in our Third Year—about my mother, what she believed, where she was… what did you think?"

Harry was silent.

"Harry, what did you think of me?"

"…I thought you were mad—,"

"You thought I was crazy, I know you did. Hell! I don't blame you! It _is_ crazy!"

"John, what are you asking?" demanded Harry.

"I just… I just wanna know when you started to believe me," replied John.

Again, the two were silent. "Not to long after," said Harry, finally.

John nodded slowly.

"Well, I should probably go. It's a miracle I even got in to see you," said Harry.

"Yeah, yeah." John walked over as Harry prepared to leave. "And, uh… thanks for coming, I guess." John grinned.

But Harry just laughed. "Sure. I figured you could use a familiar face. I'm guessing you couldn't see us in that crowd."

"Harry, are you kidding me? I wouldn't see Hagrid in that crowd!"

"The dungeon you're in for your trial is huge compared to the one I was in for mine."

"I bet they're more people for mine, too."

"Loads more…. Well, good luck." The two grinned at each other, and then Harry was out the door. As the door slammed shut behind him, John sat down in the chair. For some reason, his legs were finally able to relax.

Then his grin faded. There was still fifty more minutes before the trial started up again, and until then he was stuck in this room. A cockroach scurried across the floor.

"…Shit."

* * *

So that's it for now. The next chapter will definitely be about what's happened in the past six years (I know I haven't mentioned it, but this takes place about 2 weeks after the sixth year ends). You'll probably also find out what the incident that got John into this trial is. So, I hope you liked it.

Sorry about any spelling or grammar mistakes. I know I probably made quite a few.


	14. Halloween: First Year

**Uh, yeah, so... long time an all that. If you're still interested in this story, I'm very sorry. **

**I'm going to be honest: the reason I haven't published anything isn't because I was incredibly busy, or anything. In fact, I've had several free hours where I found myself bored. Also, my new laptop could have helped immensely. **

**To be honest, the reason I haven't published the next chapter, until now, was because I just wasn't motivated to continue this story, for a multitude of reasons. The main one, I would have to say, is thinking of what I had written before. I guess, when I started this story, I was less than amateur. I had absolutely no experience writing fiction. Anyway, I'd like to think I've gotten better since than, but whenever I would sit down to write, those first few chapters would just get on my nerves. **

**Now, obviously, something happened that made me just suck it up and write. I'd probably give the most props to the few, yet inspiring comments left by you guys (if you're still here). Also, I recently finished re-watching _TERMINATOR: The Sarah Connor Chronicles_ on Netflix. It's a great show, and I would highly recommend it. The story of John Connor in the show just got me pumped to write my own version on it. **

**So here I am.**

**Again, sorry. Also, I would just like to say to those of you who celebrate it, **

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN. It's October 31st as I type this. So here is my Halloween-themed chapter for Collisions. Enjoy! **

**Also, I feel I should add a 'Disclaimer' because, recently, I've started using lines from the Harry Potter books to help tell my story. It's not for writer's block purposes at all! I just thought it would work because the books are from Harry's perspective, and my story is from John's. Therefore, some events are basically the same so I've taken some phrases here and there from the book and used it with a little bit of my own two cents. So:**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, plot events, or any other parts of the universes of Terminator, Harry Potter, Heroes, ETC... If there is a character I create, I will tell you. Everything else: Not Mine! Just so you know. (Like I came up with John Connor or Harry Potter**

* * *

Halloween—FIRST YEAR

"…What?" asked John.

"Hermione! She doesn't know about the Troll!" exclaimed Harry.

John exhaled several swear-words most twelve-year olds shouldn't know. Harry didn't seem to care, however. They had bigger issues at hand. It was only his first year at Hogwarts School and he was already plunging himself (and, unfortunately, others) in the midst of danger.

John looked at Harry. "You know, she's probably already back up at in the Common Room." Harry glared. Even John knew these were false hopes. "… Oh all right, but Percy better not see us." They took off, blending in with the Hufflepuffs who were being led the other way.

Finally, as the group turned a corner, Harry and John saw their opportunity to split up from the rest of the group. They doubled back a few feet and sprinted down another hallway.

As John followed Harry down the winding hallway, his guilty conscious had plenty of time to eat at him. What if she was hurt—dead! She wasn't at the Halloween Feast to witness Professor Quirrell burst through the doors and scream that there was a troll in the dungeon and he thought everyone should know, and then faint shortly after. They'd heard that Hermione was in the girl's bathroom, crying her eyes out, and John knew exactly why. He was just having a bad day was all. Surely, she knew he didn't mean what he had said…right?

"Son of a—," John began to mutter to himself.

"Wait!" Harry stopped so suddenly in front of him, John nearly crashed into him. They were silent, listening. Footsteps. Harry looked at John.

John's eyes widened. "Percy?" he whispered.

They hid behind a large stone griffin. Peering around, they were relieved to see that it was, in fact, not Percy. However, they nearly let out a gasp when they saw who it was.

Severus Snape, the Potion's Master, quickly crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" asked Harry as they quietly continued on their way.

"Like I know." John was even more worried. Not only could a girl be dead because of his stupid mouth, but they were breaking the rules. They could be caught. Expelled! What would happen then? Would the Weasleys keep him in their home? Of course not, what would be the point. They didn't know him. They probably didn't really care about him. He had known them almost a year, but he still couldn't figure what they thought of him, or why they agreed to bring him into their family in the first place. They seemed to like him well enough, but, John always had trust issues. Something he inherited from his mother. John grimaced at the memories. "Son of a—," John began to mutter, again.

"Do you smell that?" asked Harry, once again stopping in the middle of his tracks.

John inhaled with his nostrils and immediately regretted it. The stench was worse than five of those stink-bombs used at once. "Why did this have to happen during _a feast_!" John hissed at no one in particular, feeling the rather large amount of meat and dessert in his stomach beginning to rise back up.

And then they heard it. Low grunts and the slow yet steady thumps of large, flat feet hitting the floor.

John saw it first. Without speaking, he rose his arm to point at something down the next corridor, something moving—moving towards them. Crouching in the shadows, they saw a large mass of a thing, lumbering over towards them, a ridiculously large club in his hands, and a ridiculously stupid look on…was that its face?

"The key's in the lock. We could lock it in."

Not being able to take his eyes of the thing, John just whispered, "…Yeah, good idea."

John was taken aback by what Harry did next. With on great leap, he managed to shut the door closed, grab the key, and turn the lock. John's mouth dropped. That was the one thing, among others, he liked about Harry. John didn't have to be the hero. No one looked to him, expecting the world. No talks about how in the future, his future, John would be the most important person on the face of the planet. It was a bit of a relief to be in a world in which his friend was the so-called hero. It took some of the pressure off. That being said, they hadn't even finished their first semester of their first year and they were already witness to a living Troll. John was sure that this wasn't a common thing in the wizarding world.

John walked over to help Harry up, breathing a sigh of relief. The two grinned.

Suddenly, a terrified, high-pitched scream silenced both of them. John and Harry exchanged glances of horror.

"Son of a—,"

"She's still in the girl's bathroom," said Harry.

John, unlocking the door, pushed through and ran into the girl's bathroom. They saw Hermione Granger, huddled by the wall opposite, the Troll right in between them. Shattered sinks and toilets littered the floor. Water was spurting from burst pipes.

"Well at least she's still alive," thought John.

The Troll moved closer towards Hermione, making her scream even louder.

"Distract it!" shouted Harry. He then grabbed a broken sink off the floor and hurled it over at the monster, hitting it in head. The Troll stopped and slowly turned around, confused.

It saw Harry, hesitated, and then made for him instead. John did the only thing he could think of to distract the Troll. "Hey…you thing, you…."

The Troll didn't seem to notice. "Is that the best thing you can think of?" screamed Harry.

"I'M TRYING!" yelled back John. At his yell, the Troll turned around.

Harry yelled back, "KEEP SHOUTING!"

John understood now. "OKAY!"

John looked at Harry who nodded. Then, both of them began yelling at the top of their lungs.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!"

Silly as it was, it seemed to do the trick. The Troll reached up to cover his ears dropping his club in his own confusion. Harry saw the opportunity and called to Hermione.

"Come on, run, _run!_" But she seemed frozen solid and didn't budge. John instinctively made for her, but it was too late.

The Troll bent down, grabbed the club and made for John, who was now nearest to it. "SON OF A—,"

Suddenly, the Troll, inches from John, stumbled back and began swirling around, clambering violently at his upper back. His club fell to the ground.

To his shock, John saw Harry, his arms slung around the Troll's massive neck. Then, even more impressive, Harry grabbed his wand and jammed it right into the Troll's nostril. The creature roared in pain. John grinned. _Harry had this_.

Suddenly, the Troll grabbed him, ready to hit him with his club. "DO SOMETHING!"

John's face fell. _Or not._

John grabbed his own wand and spoke the first spell that came to his head. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The club suddenly flew out of the Troll's hand into mid-air, rose high above the Troll's head. Then, gravity struck. The club fell with a violent thump.

Dropping Harry, the Troll swayed, dazed. Then, with a boom that John was sure the whole school heard, it fell to the floor.

Harry got to his feet and walked over to John's side, panting but otherwise unharmed. The two stared at the creature. Then, a weak voice broke the silence.

"Is it…dead?" asked Hermione, quietly.

John turned around. She was on her feet and didn't seem to be injured in anyway. John also noticed the tearstains on her face. He was hit with that familiar pang of guilt.

"No… I don't think so. Just unconscious…." Sure enough, it was still breathing. If anything, it looked like it was having a nap.

It's hand moved, making the three jump back in fear, but its hand went straight for its mouth, and it began to suck its thumb like a baby—a big, stupid, disgusting baby.

Harry sighed and stooped down to grab his wand from the thing's nose. It was covered with what looked like a mixture of bad milk, spinach soup, and outdated mashed potatoes. Needless to say, it was disgusting.

"Uh, Troll boogers."

John covered his mouth just in case. "Aw…. Once again—why did this have to happen during the big feast?"

Harry just grimaced as he wiped his wand on the Troll's pants. Hermione, however, had suddenly become very self-conscious that she was standing next to the boy who, hours before, had called her a "stupid, genius know-it-all brat." John blushed as well.

"Um… I should probably—,"

A sudden slamming and the sound of footsteps made the three look up. Moments later, Professor McGonagall burst into the room, Snape right at her heels, and Quirell timidly following. She stopped in mid step at the sight of the three first year Gryffindor students standing over an unconscious Troll, covered in water, dirt, and Troll boogers (poor Harry).

The two trio's stared at each other, both silent and eyes wide, with the exception of Quirell, who had weakly dropped onto a toilet at the sight of the Troll.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, McGonagall spoke in an almost fiendishly cold voice. "What on _Earth_ were you thinking?" She was looking straight at Harry and John. "You…you could have been killed—why aren't you in your dormitory!"

Snape was staring at Harry, who, in turn, looked down at his soaked shoes. John's heart had stopped. He was barely breathing. Whether he was breaking a school rule, or committing a federal offense, John hated getting into trouble.

"Well…?" asked Snape.

John tried speaking first. "Uh…we were—,"

"They were looking for me," came a voice from behind.

To everyone's utter and complete shock, Hermione came from behind and continue, saying "I had gone looking for the Troll. I've read all about them and I thought—I thought I could… handle it on my own…." Her voice got steadily softer as she spoke.

John dropped his wand. She was telling an outright lie to a teacher, the house head, even!

"Harry and John came to help me. If they hadn't…I'd probably be dead." She wasn't lying about that. "Harry stuck his wand up the Troll's nose, and John dropped its club on its head. They didn't have time to find a teacher for help, or anyone for that matter."

Everyone stared at her. "Well…in that case…" began a stunned McGonagall, "five points shall be taken from Gryffindor. Ms. Granger, you foolish child. You, of all people, should know better!" Hermione hung her head in shame. "Now, if you're not hurt, I'll ask you to make your way up to your dormitories. Students are finishing their food in their common rooms."

Hermione looked at Harry, than at John, and left.

Harry looked back at McGonagall, while John stared, speechless after Hermione.

"As for you two," John snapped out of it and looked back at the teachers. "Surprised would be the accurate word to describe your… accomplishment. I should say you were lucky; however, I shall award each of you ten points. Headmaster Dumbledore will be notified. Now, on your way, before this thing wakes up, again."

Beside them, the Troll groaned in its sleep. John and Harry scurried out.

The two walked in silence for a while. All John could say was, "…Huh."

As they reached the Gryffindor Common Room, they saw that Hermione was waiting for them by the door. After an awkward silence, they exchanged thanks and went inside. As Harry went to go fetch them some plates, John looked at Hermione.

"Uh… Sorry. I just... what I said today... I didn't mean it."

Avoiding eye contact, she nodded, and the two went to go help Harry with the food.

Five years later, a seventeen year old John Connor stood before the Wizengamot.

"So there was none of the…_mutant abilities_ used?" asked Scrimgeour.

John slowly shook his head. "Only magic."

Scrimgeour exhaled deeply through his nose, contemplating this. A few people murmured overhead. "Very well, let's continue. You second year… the Chamber of Secrets incident?"

"Just magic, there as well."

Scrimgeour grinned maliciously. "Now, now. Let us be the judge of that."

John furrowed his brow.

"Please, Mr. Connor. Enlighten us!"

* * *

**Right, well, I was actually pretty pleased with this chapter. I'll probably read it two years from now and gauge my eyes out, but for now, I'm happy. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I've gotten back into my grove of writing, and I'll start working on my next chapter tonight. **

**Now, to try something different for next chapter, I'm going to give myself a deadline. I plan to release the next chapter before Sunday, November 7th, 11:59 P.M. If I don't make this deadline, I will literally buy a huge wrestler's glove and punch myself in the face repeatedly until I start finish. Seriously, no joke. I'll do it!**

**Anyway, Thanks for reading.**

**P.S. Sorry for any Grammar or Spelling Mistakes.**

**P.P.S. Wanna leave a review? Just asking...**


	15. The Truth: Third Year

**Well, in case you didn't see my last note, the reason I didn't publish the next chapter the next Sunday was because I had decided to take an indefinite break, mainly because I didn't think anybody was reading. But then, I thought to myself, "What the hell..." and I started writing the next chapter. So now, here it is, and if no one reads it, that's okay. I'll just write it for the sake of writing, which is why I started in the first place.**

**Anyway, this chapter involves an idea I've had since I began this story and involves quite a significant moment for John's character. While it isn't my best work, I'm happy I've at least gotten to this point. **

**Also, I'll still be sticking to a time schedule regarding when I release my next chapter, but instead of one week, it'll be two weeks. This is just so that it feels less like a stressful deadline, and more of a healthy goal. Therefore, you should expect the next chapter no later than 11:59 P.M. Sunday, December 12th. That's my plan and I'm staying with it.**

**Now, before I begin this chapter, I'm going to try something new. I'm aware that the time jump I wrote made things a little confusing, and the long time between the release of each chapter probably doesn't help. To help fix this, I'm going to start a "Previously on..." kind of segment at the beginning of each chapter, so let me know what you think. Now, for the record, this first one will go back pretty far, but this is really just for a reminder.**

* * *

**PREVIOUSLY...**

**After moving in with his distant relatives, the wealthy Petrelli family from New York, John Connor is visited by Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School, who invites John to come and study at the school, claiming John is special. **

**Staying with the Weasley family, who graciously took him in as their own, John becomes accustomed to the foreign cultures of the Wizarding World (and Europe) for a year before beginning school.**

**However, before his years in school are revealed, we jump forward six years in the future to see that John Connor, now 17, is being tried in front of the entire Wizarding World for a crime that has yet to be revealed. **

**During the trial, Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, reveals to the world that John's mother, Sarah Connor, was deemed a crazed psychotic. He goes on to claim that John is a potential threat as well. Then, forcing John to recount his years in school as to better understand his story, John recounts the events of his first year at Hogwarts, including his run in with a troll on Halloween night. **

**Perhaps most startling is the revelation that John is a mutant; however, the details have not yet been revealed.**

The Truth—THIRD YEAR

Up above John's position, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, watched helplessly as his best friend of five years tried to defend his actions to a Wizengamot made up of a majority that were cruel and biased towards John, who had just been telling the truth this whole time, making fairly reasonable arguments in his favor. It just wasn't enough, however; it never would be.

John had finished describing the events of their second year, detailing the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the petrified students, and his and Harry's daring adventure into the Chamber itself to find John's sister Ginny. But still, the Minister of Magic wasn't satisfied.

"We are well aware of the events surrounding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets—but that is beside the point!" Scrimgeour's voice echoed around the chamber and upwards to where Harry was sitting amidst an innumerable amount of spectators. Under usual circumstances, these specific types of trials would be open to a few wizards and witches, usually members of the Ministry, only those relevant to the crime. However, this was far from usual circumstances, as it may have very well applied to the whole of the Wizarding World. Therefore, it was no surprise that there was more than two-hundred wizards and witches present. That or the Minister just wanted to humiliate John in front a larger audience. Either way, there was no doubt that this trial would be remembered as a significant chapter in the history of the Wizarding World.

It had not been that long ago that the first rumors of mutants living within the muggle world had begun to reach wizarding newspapers. The Daily Prophet published an article favoring an even greater separation between the Wizard and Muggle barriers, calling this new "Mutant Phenomena" as a premonition of things to come. And then, word hit the stands that a Wizard had been discovered to be a Mutant?

Harry did not share their anxiety over the matter, but he couldn't help but understand their fear. Nevertheless, Harry could do nothing but look on as John was interrogated by the Minister, as the whole world watched.

"Mr. Connor, I grow impatient…" Scrimgeour was saying.

"Could have fooled me," retorted John.

"Charming. While I would love nothing more than to continue this little charade, time is of the essence. In case you have forgotten, You Know Who has returned, Albus Dumbledore is dead, and you have yet to answer for your crimes. If I were you, I wouldn't hesitate another minute."

Besides Harry, someone fidgeted nervously. He looked to his right to see a large fiery-red haired group all looking down at John, worried and uneasy. Although they weren't his real family, John had become so close to the Weasleys over the years, you would think he was another son, if it wasn't for the hair. He had stopped referring to them as his foster family and called them his family, something which John admitted to Harry he had never actually been able to do. He couldn't imagine what they must be thinking.

To his immediate right he saw the bushy-haired girl Harry and John had saved from the Troll their first year. Hermione was wringing her hands, uncomfortably. The tension was great, to say the least.

To his left, Harry saw many others he knew from school. Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Seamus Finnigan were only a few, but Harry could make out almost student he knew in Gryffindor among the crowd. He even saw Professor Flitwick sitting in a seat across the chamber. All were watching John, listening to the truth come out. Harry exhaled deeply.

"...Relevance, Mr. Connor. Relevance is the key, here. Is there any piece of information from your second year at Hogwarts School that pertains to this case."

John was silent, thinking. Another member of the Wizengamot, an elderly gentleman, spoke. "Please, Mr. Connor, we are only trying to understand the facts. Valuable information could very well go towards helping your case."

John sighed. "There was…something. About four years ago."

"In your Third Year?" asked Scrimgeour.

John nodded, his face grim.

Harry's heart felt like it had just dropped off a cliff. He knew where this was going…it was a day he couldn't forget, even if he wanted to.

* * *

A thirteen year old Harry Potter watched as his Defense Against the Dark Arts class screamed with laughter and cheers. Professor Lupin grinned. "It's confused!" he screamed. "We're getting there! Dean, you next!" Dean Thomas hurried forward to face the boggart. Immediately, it transformed from a silvery eyeball to a gruesome-severed hand, scurrying across the floor with its pale fingers.

"_Riddikulus!_" he shouted, pointing his wand straight at the thing. In response, the hand became suddenly ensnared in a mouse-trap, trying to wriggle free.

Laughing, Lupin forced the creature back into the large wardrobe, then slamming it shut. "Excellent, excellent. I believe another five points are in order, for those of you who faced your fears. Remember, the boggart is able to transform itself into the very thing you fear the most, and the fact that you were able to conquer it, regardless, is a feat in and of itself. Anyway…I think that's lunch."

There was a collective groan from the class. Seamus Finnigan spoke up, "But sir, we didn't all get a chance to fight the boggart."

"Yeah, and you said we'd be moving on next class," said a young John Connor from the back of the room.

Lupin hesitated a moment, then gave in. "All right, all right. Those of you who'd still like to have a go, stay if you like. The rest of you, have a good lunch." As the majority of the class left, chattering excitedly, Harry moved to the other side of room with the other few who were staying.

"Hurry up, will you? I'm starving," Harry said to John.

"What's it gonna be, Connor?" grinned Seamus. "A big, hairy spider?"

Dean laughed. "Nah, it's gonna be a tiny one. Even those'll make him squeal for his mum." Harry laughed with them.

John shook his head, grinning. "Yeah, yeah." Lifting his wand, he nodded at Lupin to open the door. John's grin faded, however, and seeing this, Harry slowly stopped laughing. Something was not right. John seemed distracted by a thought, or rather, a realization. For then, John looked afraid. His eyes widened at his sudden realization and his face paled. "Wait…no," he barely said.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine," reassured Lupin, who grasped the wardrobe door. "Just remember, if you don't act quickly, the boggart will feed of your fear and grow. Don't give it that power."

Harry looked confusedly from John, who was breathing deeply, to the wardrobe. _Was he really __that__ afraid of spiders?_ Lupin opened the door to reveal nothing but darkness inside. John's wand had lowered.

At first…nothing happened. Then…

_THUD._

From within the wardrobe a familiar and distinct sound of something hard and tough—something rigid could be heard.

Now Seamus and Dean had stopped laughing, surprised at the lack of spiders.

_THUD._

The thud came again, closer this time. Again, it sounded familiar, but Harry couldn't quite distinguish it. John, however, seemed to know exactly what it was. He began to back away; Harry had never seen him so terrified.

_THUD._

Then, Harry recognized the sound. It was something hitting the floor of the wardrobe, something heavy.

_THUD….THUD._

Harry was surprised to hear it, for it wasn't a common thing in Hogwarts.

_THUD….THUD_

John had closed his eyes.

_THUD._

It was the sound of metal.

_THUD._

Suddenly, to the shock and horror of everyone in the room a large, well-built man stepped out of the wardrobe. He was handsome, but Harry had never seen such a rigid face. He had short, well kept hair, beady eyes, a powerful nose, a chiseled jaw, and a prominent chin. Behind Harry, Seamus and Dean were speechless, and for good reason. The man was completely naked and was staring straight at John.

Harry looked to John as well for some kind of explanation, but John was motionless, staring straight at the man's unblinking eyes. And then, without warning, the man suddenly burst into flames, causing a girl who had stayed to scream in terror; Harry didn't blame her. On the other hand, the man did not scream or make a sound at all. In fact, he didn't seem to notice, and continued to slowly step towards John.

The flame pierced the man's skin, warm blood dripping down his body. Harry had to look away. The fire had engulfed the man, and was burning him alive. But maybe, 'alive' was the wrong word, for as he stepped, his charring skin peeled off his body to reveal a metallic under-layer, completely unscathed. Where once was flesh and muscle, stood wiring, hydraulics, and a shiny metal skeleton that mirrored that of a human's.

Where his mouth used to be, a collection of iron teeth showed and where his nose once was, stood a metal plate with two large slits, similar to that of a human skull without the cartilage, muscle, or skin. But what made Harry shudder were the eyes. In place of the man's dark, piercing pupils remained two round, blood-red eyes, staring endlessly at John Connor.

Slowly, the creature made its way to John, who backed up against the wall. The small group of students around backed off, except Harry who moved closer, however, a hand fell in front of him. Lupin, who looked just as shocked as Harry, was blocking his way. Gazing at the creature steadily approaching John, Harry spoke up. "John! It's not real!"

John appeared not to have heard, as his eyes were fixed on the demonic being walking towards him. The creature's hand reached behind and pulled something from behind. It wasn't a wand. It wasn't a deadly potion. To everyone's amazement and further confusion, it was a gun.

Besides Harry, Seamus muttered, "What in Merlin…?" Most wizards had probably never seen a muggle weapon, and Harry was sure no one had ever seen a creature like the one holding the firearm.

"It isn't real John! Just cast the spell!" repeated Harry, helplessly.

The creature brought up the gun and pointed it…straight at John's head.

"JOHN!" Harry didn't know what to do. Then, looking up at Lupin, he yelled, "Do something!"

Lupin, who had been unable to move out of sheer surprise, hesitated, then dove into action, jumping in front of the boggart. As the creature saw Lupin, it immediately transformed with a loud _CRACK_ into a shiny glowing orb. "_Riddiculus!_" cried Lupin. The orb deflated, and Lupin, forcing the creature back into the wardrobe, slammed it shut behind him for a second time.

For a moment, there was silence. Everyone's eyes were on John who was sweating and breathing heavily.

"…Everyone out. John…a word."

Reluctantly, the students who had remained exited the classroom, silently. Harry walked to John. "You okay?" John did not answer. He closed his eyes, wiping the sweat from his brow. Avoiding eye-contact, John began to speak, but couldn't get the words out.

"Harry, please leave," Lupin said.

Harry looked back at John, who looked at nothing but his shoes. Harry took one last look at John, then walked to the door, then, grabbed the door to close it behind him. Before doing so, however, he looked back at John, who looked back at him. Tears were in his eyes.

Harry closed the door.

* * *

Down at the Great Hall, news of John's encounter with the boggart was already starting to spread. As Harry sat down for lunch, he was rushed by several people, all asking if the stories were true. The rumors, which had spread ridiculously fast, all involved John being terrified of a naked man that was trying to harm him, but most stopped there. No one seemed to have mentioned the part about the man catching on fire, or how there was a machine-type thing underneath.

Harry could say nothing, mainly because he knew almost as little as they did. Pushing past the growing crowd, he found a seat, grabbed a plate, and began piling it up. It was only when his plate had been filled completely that he realized he wasn't very hungry. Sighing, Harry pushed his plate away.

_What was that thing…and why was John so afraid of it? _Harry didn't know John to be scared to the point of stasis about most things, and even spiders didn't make him sweat that much. Speaking of spiders, Harry had no idea John feared something more than spiders, but what was so strange was how vivid John's fear had been. It seemed as if the machine's connection with John went deeper than just normal fear. It was as if he knew it from somewhere else; he must have remembered it only at that moment. This begged the question, though, where did John know the machine from? Harry knew John had lived with muggle families, so maybe he had seen it in a movie? Harry shook his head. John would be more scared of a spider on the wall than a fictional creature on a screen. So was it real…? Harry would have been open to the possibility. In his time as a part of the Wizarding World, he had seen a variety of creatures he never even knew existed. But there was a gun! A muggle weapon, as Harry was sure wizards had no need for them.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione Granger sitting down on the seat across from him looking exhausted, but worried at the same time. "What happened?"

"You didn't stay after class?" asked Harry.

"I—I had to get to another class," she retorted, hurriedly.

"It's lunch…."

"It was to see a teacher—what happened!"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. John went up against the boggart, and something weird came out."

"A… a naked man?" she asked, warily.

"No—well, yeah, but…that wasn't all—the man suddenly caught on fire and his skin burned away and underneath was some kind of…thing." Harry had no clue how to explain it, and he wasn't sure if he should. Thinking it better they hear it from John, himself, Harry stopped talking.

"Well, what was it?"

"I don't know. I think we should go find John. Something tells me he isn't coming down for lunch, today-" As Harry got up to leave, Hermione interrupted.

"Er…I have to…go to another class."

Harry's eyes widened. "But it's lunch," he repeated.

"I know, I know, but I just have to see another teacher. I'll find you two at the end of the day?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, but nodded all the same. The two left the chattering Great Hall, then parted ways at the Grand Staircase.

Making his way up to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry wondered what he'd say to John. It wasn't exactly the easiest topic to discuss, and not knowing how John would react to Harry trying to talk in the first place might make matters worse.

Unsurprisingly, he found the Common Room empty. The only person there was sitting by the fire, their back turned away from Harry. Upon hearing him enter, however, the person turned towards Harry who was surprised to see John. Not knowing what to say, Harry stood there awkwardly.

"Hey…"

John nodded. He did not seem sad or shaken. If anything, he looked angry.

"Mind if I sit?" asked Harry.

John nodded, again, and Harry sat down across from John. For a while, the two sat in silence.

"…Do you want to talk about it?" asked Harry, carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was make John mad. "It's fine if you don't. We can just…sit."

"No, I…I think I owe you an explanation, anyway." John stood up and walked closer to the fire. "It's just so _stupid_! I mean, out of all the things that had to go through my head at that moment, why did it have to be that!"

"It's not your fault," Harry said in an attempt to console John.

"Well I just…" he sighed. "I thought I'd forgotten it, you know? I thought…it was history—I'd put it behind me."

"John, I…I want to help, but… c'mon mate, I have no idea what you're talking about. Do you want to tell me what it was? That's a good start."

John looked from the fire at his first real best friend, contemplating something in his mind. "All right, but do me a favor." Harry nodded. "Just listen to the whole story, then you can make up your own mind….Please, I've never told anyone this….not even the Weasleys. I…I trust you, okay?"

Harry nodded, again, wondering what could John would be so secretive about. John stared for a moment, then sat down next to Harry. "Okay. Look…My mom—my _real_ mom? She's crazy."

Harry couldn't help but furrow his brow.

"Just listen….I wasn't born in a hospital in some city in America, okay? I was born in the jungle, somewhere in Central America. My mom raised me in the jungle and the streets to be a soldier. She taught me how to fire, reload, and repair a gun, how to cover your tracks from your enemies, and how to survive when there's no hope for survival in the first place—,"

Harry said nothing.

"—and she taught me all of this because she believed that in the future, a computer defense system called SkyNet was going to create a nuclear holocaust and wage war against the human race. Many people will die, and after the bombs hit, the few survivors left will form a resistance. She believed that I was going to be the future leader of that resistance…."

Harry _couldn't_ say anything, not even if he wanted to.

"She told me that before I was born, SkyNet sent one of its soldiers, a machine, back in time to kill her so that she would never give birth to me. She said that she survived because, in the future, I sent back one of my soldiers to protect her. She made me believe that the entire existence of the human race depended upon my survival and when I was around seven, she took me to blow up a Technology Company's office building, believing that it would be the one responsible for developing SkyNet. Suffice it to say, she was caught and taken to an insane asylum, where she still is today. I, on the other hand, got the pleasure of being tossed around between foster families until Professor Dumbledore finally contacted me."

Harry only stared. John took a deep breath, calming down a bit.

"What you saw in there… it was one of the machines. My mother told me about them, their cold, red eyes. When I was little, just the thought of them kept me up at night. She wasn't the greatest mother in the world…. I guess, the reason it's so stupid is when she was arrested, my mother—yeah I was shocked. It was kind of a kick in the balls really, but…I was also kind of relieved. All that pressure could just go away. I could live a normal life," he fingered his wand in his hands, "relatively speaking. I didn't have to worry about machines or killer robots anymore…I could just _live_." John finished speaking and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry swallowed, unsure of how to react. "Well, then why are you still afraid of…_them_?"

"_That's exactly it!_ I have no friggin idea! If anything, I should have forgotten about them, or something! I shouldn't be afraid of them anymore, but for some goddam reason, I CAN'T GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD!" John was standing now.

"Allright, allright, calm down…."

"Sorry…."

"It's fine. Look, it's not weird that you're afraid of something that doesn't exist—,"

"But now I'm doubting myself, and everyone else! What if it _is_ true? What if my mom's right, and that's why I'm still afraid—or maybe I'm going crazy, too!"

"You're not going crazy," said Harry.

John lay back down against the chair. He said nothing for a while. "…What is everyone else saying?"

"Well, last I hear, you're terrified of a naked man trying to touch you in the wrong places."

John raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Well…I guess that'll draw people's attention away from asking questions about the machine underneath the man. "

"Well, Hermione might ask."

John groaned. "Son of a bitch….I forgot about her…. She just keeps on disappearing everywhere. She wasn't there when it happened, was she?"

Harry shook his head. "Er, you hungry?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm not. You?"

"Nah… but listen. Thanks for telling me…."

John nodded in response. "Thanks for not calling me a lunatic."

Harry gave a short grin. The two remained silent for a while. Finally, John spoke, "'Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to ask me a question, or something?"

Harry hesitated. "Er…well, actually, I have several questions."

John smiled slightly. "All right. Shoot."

For the rest of lunch, John told Harry everything there was to know about his past. It really had been a surprise for both of them that John was comfortable will telling anybody, but he seemed happy to have found someone to trust, and Harry was happy John felt him trustworthy, even if the story took a while getting used to.

* * *

Since then, Harry had been the only one to know of John's past…until now. Here, at this trial, John was being forced to reveal his secrets to, in truth, the entire world, looking like a complete lunatic, like his mother.

But Harry knew something that everyone else did not, at least not yet. As deeply disturbing and sad as it was, Harry and John knew the truth that could break the heart of every wizard and witch listening. Although it was only recently that they he had learned it, John Connor's mother, Sarah Connor had been telling the truth the whole time.

The threat of SkyNet was real, and John would soon be telling the world the truth. But, would they believe him?

* * *

**Well, that's it for now. Please, if there's anyone reading, I would greatly appreciate a comment or a PM so that I know someone is reading. And just a reminder, next chapter is coming, latest, two weeks from now, Sunday the 12th of December. See you then, and thanks for reading.**

**P.S. Sorry about any grammar or spelling mistakes.**


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